Things Worth Fighting For
by VinterNatt
Summary: A story about Eomer and Lothiriel. How they meet during the War of the Ring. Will they be together in the end? Or will their stubborn nature keep them apart? And in the dark a conspiracy is planned.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the caracthers from the Lord of the Rings. You know how it goes, I wish they were mine, but they're not... sadly. However, those caracthers you do not recognize is mine.

**Author's note: **This is my first fanfic, so be nice and don't judge me too hard. I am always ready to do better, so please tell me if there is something that could be better on the next chapters. I would appreciate reviews. And just so it is said, my native language is NOT english, so I apology for the possible errors I am certain to do before this story has come to an end.

My Elvish and Rohirric that will be used during the story, may also be full of errors, so I apology for that as well. This story starts before the great battles of the War of the Ring, and will go on after Sauron's fall. This is the beginning of some stories I have planned, so enjoy.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Prologue**

Dol Amroth

The city was peaceful and quiet. People enjoyed the peace and was happy that all was well. The people of Dol Amroth enjoyed this beautiful night in peace. At least, almost everyone enjoyed the night...

The palace were the home of Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth. He ruled Dol Amroth and Belfalas, although they were under the rule of the Steward of Gondor.

Normally Imrahil would enjoyed such a night, but something was different from him to other men except his title. Other men did not have his daughter.

"Get out of my sight! With what right dare you ask for my hand? Why do you turn to my father with your questions and not me? I am fully capeable of speaking for myself!"

The man's face was ashen, his eyes did not leave the floor and he seemed to wish he was any place but in the palace, standing before the beautiful princess of Dol Amroth who seemed ready to rip the man's gut open.

Imrahil pitied the man. Lothíriel had a fierce temper. She was very beautiful with her dark hair and green eyes. Her skin was slightly pale. But she had a temper to match her beauty.

"I would not marry you were you the last man on earth!" Lothíriel said and glared at the man. "If you do not get out of the palace now, I will have the guards throw you out. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course, my lady," the man muttered and hurried out of the hall.

Lothíriel stared at her father. She did not say a word, but Imrahil knew she wanted to throw him from the highest point of Dol Amroth. She wanted to make sure not a single man ever found his way inside the palace to ask for her hand.

"Sister, did you really need to scare him so? We were debating whether to come to his aid or not, but in fear for our own lives we decided not to," Amrothos, Imrahil's youngest son, said and came towards them, his older brother Erchirion by his side.

"Oh, really?" Lothíriel shot them a glare. "I can assure you you are not entirely safe yet, unless you both keep your mouths shut."

Erchirion and Amrothos looked at each other and nodded. It was safer not to say a thing.

"Liriel, can you not give the man a chance?" Imrahil asked. "He is a good man and I can assure you that he is worthy of you."

"Is that so, Ada?" the princess asked. "Well, I have no intentions of being any man's slave, less alone that man. I cannot see his worth for anything else than drinking and..."

Imrahil cut her off. "I do not want to hear of it, Liriel. You have been acting this way towards any man that even looked your way. In this rate I will never see you married well, and I wish you to be well taken care of."

"I can take care of myself, Ada. I can think and act for myself, I do not need some brainless nobleman to make my decisions for me," Lothíriel said. Without another word, she turned around and walked out of the hall and brushed pass her oldest brother. She disappeared out of sight.

Elphir, Imrahil's oldest son and heir, looked at his father and brothers. "What happened this time?"

Erchirion smiled. "He asked if she wished to meet him for a walk on the beach in a few days."

"She practically threw him out," Amrothos said grinning.

"This is not funny," Imrahil said. "At this rate your sister will never wed anyone, and she will die old and lonely."

"She is still very young, Ada. She have good time to get married," Elphir said.

"Exactly, don't worry about it, Ada," Amrothos said.

"Yes, you are probably right," Imrahil said, but he could not help but wonder if he should just send her to a land far away and wed her off so someone else could handle her temper. But Imrahil was not sure where to find a man who could put up with Lothíriel.

* * *

Valinea looked up from her book when the door opened, but continued reading when she saw who it was. Lothíriel seated herself on the bed and took up another book and started reading. She did not say anything. 

"All right, what is it?" Valinea asked.

Lothíriel shut the book and looked at her friend. "Why is it so important for women to marry?"

"Another man in search for your heart?" Valinea asked with a grin.

"It's not funny, Val," Lothíriel protested. "I do not wish to wed anyone. It is my life and I want to have a say in what concerns me."

"Of course, Liriel, but you know your life is not easy. You are a public person, and you are old enough to marry and it is expected that you do so soon," Valinea said.

Lothíriel groaned and buried her face in the pillow. She said something Val could not make out.

"Oh, come on, Lothíriel, you know this as well as I do," Val said.

Lothíriel looked at Val and nodded. "Well, when I am ready I will marry someone, but I have no intentions of doing so now, and when I do I will marry for love. Can't anyone understand that?"

"I am sure your family does," Val said, "I do."

"I am not sure my brainless brothers do," Lothíriel said.

Val smiled. "Oh, I am sure they understands." 

"You only say that because you like my brother," Lothíriel said and smiled as she saw her friend blush. "I have known for a long time that you like him."

Val blushed even more, her face was almost as red as her hair. "It is nothing like that, Liriel."

Lothíriel's smile grew broader. "It is. I know it is." She looked out of the window. Perhaps she one day would find someone she liked as much as Valinea liked Amrothos.

* * *

Edoras, the capital of Rohan. 

It was late. Most people had gone to bed. But some were still up.

A man and a woman was in the stables. They fed their horses and took care of them after the ride they had taken.

Their names was Éomer and Éowyn, brother and sister. Their uncle was Théoden, King of Rohan.

Éomer was the Third Marshal of Riddermark and lived in Aldburg in Eastfold. He was in Edoras for a short while to visit his sister who still lived in Meduseld with their uncle.

The siblings was concerned for their uncle. The king was old and could not go to bed without help. And everywhere in the shadows the king's advicor was, listening and looking. No one trusted him.

"Must you leave so soon?" Éowyn asked.

"I am afraid I must, sister," Éomer said. "My duties will not be done as long as I am here."

Éowyn nodded. "I know, but..." she shook her head. "Sometimes I wish I could speak to you or Théodred. It is hard to be here alone..."

It was only to her brother Éowyn would ever admit anything to, it be her wishes or fears. The siblings had been close since childhood, since their parents died when they were young. Often did they seek comfort in each other's company.

"I know, Éowyn," Éomer said. "I know it must be hard for you. It is for all of us. But we must continue to do what is required of us."

Éowyn nodded. "I know. When will you leave?"

"Before the sun is up," Éomer answered.

Éowyn nodded. "I will not make you promise to be safe, but you must try to return in one piece. You and Théodred are the only ones who can keep some control in Rohan."

"It is not lost yet, sister," Éomer said. "We decide our own destiny."

Éowyn smiled. That was something their mother often had said, and the siblings used it to remind themselves not to lose hope.

"Let us go inside," Éowyn said.

* * *

Somewhere else... 

Three men were inside a dark room, speaking in low voices. Not that they feared anyone to hear them, they had ordered to be left alone, and their servants was to be trusted.

"We must act sooner rather than later," the youngest man said.

The oldest man looked at the two younger men. His sons. "We must be patience. One wrong move may alert the stweard."

"And what will he do?" the youngest man asked. "Denethor is old now, and he seem not to care much for things outside the White City."

"Denethor is no fool," the last man said. He was five years older than his brother. "He will not let anything go against his rule of Gondor. That is the only thing that matters to him."

The old man nodded. "Your brother is right. We must be careful, but you are also right. We must now act. Our plan is ready and it is time for us to make our first move."


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Only the caracthers you don't recognize is mine. The caracthers from the Lord of the Rings belongs to Tolkien.

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 1**

Lothíriel enjoyed to have breakfast. She enjoyed every meal with her family. It was a time when they all were gathered. She feared it would not be long they would enjoy such times together, as the war drew even closer. Her father and brothers would fight in the war, and leave the women of the family behind.

Not that they were so many women in the family. It was herself and Elphir's wife, Mariel. She really liked Mariel. She was both beautiful and intelligent. She was from Minas Tirith, daughter of a nobleman. They had married a few years earlier and their son Alphros had been born the year before.

Erchirion and Amrothos was talking in the lines of women and ale, much to the dismay of Imrahil. After all, they were born into a royal family, although it was often they did not act as royalties.

Elphir and Mariel talked to each other, their voices low. Lothíriel ate in silence, only listening to the conversations taking place. Imrahil did not say much either.

"So what are your plans for today?" Imrahil asked.

"I must take care of my duties, then spend some time with my wife and son," Elphir said with a grin.

Amrothos rolled his eyes. "Why even ask, Ada? He always answer that."

"He is no fun anymore," Erchirion added.

"Perhaps one day you will understand," Mariel said with a smile.

"And what do you have planned then?" Elphir asked, smiling at his brothers. He knew very well they had absolutely no plans.

"Well, we thought to go down to the beach and..." Amrothos started.

"We was planning to go into the city and..." Erchirion said at the same time.

Elphir simply nodded, Mariel and Lothíriel tried not to laugh, but failing. Imrahil managed to keep his face serious.

After breakfast Lothíriel made her way to her father's study.

She knocked on the door before opening it and entering the study.

"Ah, Lothíriel," Imrahil said with a smile. He was standing next to a young man Lothíriel had never seen before. He was quite tall, had dark hair and dark eyes. He looked quite handsome, but something in his eyes made Lothíriel freeze to the bone. It was something about the way he looked at her...

"Liriel, this is Lord Talon of Lebinnin. Talon, this is my only daughter, Princess Lothíriel," Imrahil said.

Talon smiled, and Lothíriel forced herself to walk against the two men. Talon took her hand and kissed it. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"The pleasure is mine, my lord," Lothíriel said, smiling as best she could. He did not let go of her hand right away, something that only irritated her. She was about to say something to him about holding a lady's hand for too long could be seen the wrong way, but Imrahil silenced her with a look.

"Was it something you wanted, Lothíriel?" Imrahil asked.

"Oh, we can talk about it later, Ada," Lothíriel said and forced herself to smile to her father, while she forced Talon to let go of her hand. "I must go, I promised Mariel to help her with Alphros today."

"Of course," Imrahil said.

"I will see you later, Ada," Lothíriel said and walked out of the study, not offering Talon a look. She hurried out of the palace. She needed air. She knew the look in Talon's eyes. Lust. Desire. Yet there was something in his eyes she could not quite place, but she did not like it. His look frightened her, and Lothíriel hated to admit she was frighten. She would never tell anyone that. Never. She never told anyone she was afraid, but she could admit it to herself.

She did not like Talon of Lebinnin.

Imrahil gave Talon a glass of brandy.

"Thank you, my lord," Talon said. He took a sip, then smiled at the prince. "Your daughter is very beautiful."

Imrahil nodded and smiled. "Yes, she is."

"You must be very proud of her," Talon commented.

"I am," Imrahil said. "She is a beautiful young woman, intelligent and bright, but I fear she is very... strong willed." He was going to say stubborn, but thought better of it.

"Yes, well, all I can see is a beautiful, intelligent woman," Talon said with a smile. "My lord, I have a suggestion for you."

* * *

Éomer lead his men to Aldburg. His back was straight, his head held high. He rode proudly ahead of his éored, his second-in-command at his side. 

He was looking forward to come home. His visit to Edoras had tired his mind. His uncle was worse, his advicor Gríma, son of Galmod, was never far away from the king, always near and whispering in Théoden's ear. Éomer's expression was grim as he though about the advicor. No one used his name anymore, few actually remembered it. He was simply known as Wormtongue.

Not only was Éomer concerned about his uncle, but he worried about his sister as well. Éowyn could take care of herself, but Éomer could not help himself. He worried for her. He knew he had always been protective of her, but what could you expect? After their parents died, it was only he who could defend her, he was the one who had to protect her. Now he was in Aldburg and she in Edoras, and Éomer worried about her. She was too far away for him to protect.

And it was not only thoughts of his uncle and sister that occupied his mind. Rohan was not in war for the moment, but Éomer was certain it would not be long until something happened that would lead Rohan to war.

"Éomer? Are you all right?"

Éomer turned at his second-in-command. Éothain was looking at him with concerned eyes.

"Of course," Éomer said. He had known Éothain since he and Éowyn moved to Edoras as children, and they had been friends for many years. When Éomer was appointed Third Marshal, he had made Éothain his second-in-command.

"Are you sure?" Éothain asked.

"It is nothing to worry about, Éothain. Let us get to Aldburg before dark," Éomer said and sent Éothain a look that told him that the discussion was over.

* * *

After one hour with Mariel and Alphros, Lothíriel made her way to the beach.

Val was sitting on a rock, watching the sea. She smiled at Lothíriel. "I started to think you was so caught up with your nephew that you had forgotten all about me."

Lothíriel smiled. "How could I forget about you? Who would I then go to with my problems?"

Val grinned. "Exactly, you need me to get you out of trouble."

"But when I am in trouble, usually you are too," Lothíriel said.

"True," Val said. "Well, anything you want to tell me?"

Lothíriel wondered if she should tell Valinea about Lord Talon, but decided against it. She was not going to think about Talon and she was absolutely not going to talk about him. "No, not really," she answered. "But do you think you can have dinner with us tonight?"

"Dinner? With your family?" Val asked.

Lothíriel grinned. "It will only be Ada, Mariel, my brothers and I." 

"Hm... _all _your brothers?" Val asked, not meeting Lothíriel's gaze.

The princess tried not to laugh. "Yes, all of them. Amrothos will be very happy to see you."

"He will? Have he said anything?" Val asked. "I mean..."

"Well, no, but he will be happy to see you," Lothíriel said.

"Well, I suppose I can come. I do not think my father would mind, but if I have something else I must do..." Val tried not to show how much she wanted to have dinner with Lothíriel and her family. How much she wanted to have dinner with Amrothos. But Liriel knew Val said yes because Amrothos would be there.

* * *

Lothíriel and Valinea entered the hall and saw that the others were already there. They all seated themselves at the table. 

Lothíriel started to take some food.

"Lothíriel," Imrahil said and Lothíriel looked puzzled at him. "Not before everyone is here."

"But everyone is here?" Lothíriel looked around the table and counted everyone. Elphir, Mariel, Erchirion, Amrothos and Valinea. Who was missing?

Imrahil was about to respond when the doors opened and Lothíriel's jaw dropped when she saw who it was.

"I apology for being late, my lord," Lord Talon said.

"Do not worry about it, Lord Talon," Imrahil said. "Please, take a seat."

Talon seated himself next to the princess.

Lothíriel did not know what to think. Why had her father invited him? What was going on?

Val noticed how Lothíriel tensed when Lord Talon seated himself next to her. She saw how Lothíriel avoided to look at anyone, how she concentrated on her food. She wondered what was wrong.

"Val? Are you all right?" Amrothos asked from her left side.

Val turned against him and smiled. "Yes, of course. I am fine. Nothing is wrong, do not worry about me." When all he did was nod, she turned away. She could feel herself blush down to the toes. _Say something. Anything! _"Hm..." she looked around and her gaze fell on the window. "Beautiful weather." _Oh, of all stupid things to say you comment on the weather! Stupid! Idiot! How is it possible to be so stupid? _She cursed herself and prayed that no one else had heard or seen her.

But of course she was never that lucky. Mariel was sitting across the table, grinning like a fool. Val hoped she didn't comment.

"Very beautiful," Amrothos said, but Val had completely forgotten what she had said about the weather. She smiled at him. "Thank you."

Amrothos looked puzzled at her, "For what?"

Her smile quickly disappeared, and again she felt herself blush. He hadn't given her a compliment! How in the name of the Valar would she get out of this one? "Hm?"

"You said 'thank you'. What did you mean?" Amrothos asked.

"Who? Me? Did I say that?" Val asked while she mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. _He must believe I am a complete fool! _

"Yes," Amrothos said. "Are you sure you are fine?"

"Yes. I am fine," Val said. She turned her focus at the meal and did not say another word.

Lothíriel hardly ate anything. She could feel Talon stare at her during the entire meal. At last she lost her patience and turned against him. "If you are going to stare at me all evening, you may at least tell me why you are doing so."

"Lothíriel..." Imrahil muttered, but Lothíriel ignored him.

"Answer me. Is there a reason why you are having a conversation with my father, while your eyes never leave me? Did you not know it is not polite to stare at people, or did your mother forget that when she tried to teach you manners? She failed miserably, I might add." While she spoke, Talon only looked at her, his face impossible to read. Lothíriel felt as if he looked right through her.

"I apology for that, Lord Talon," Imrahil said quietly, obviously embarrassed by Lothíriel's behavior.

"You do not need to apology, my lord," Talon said. Then he spoke to the princess. "It seems to me, my lady, that your mother failed to teach you manners as well."

Lothíriel glared at him. "I am not the one staring at other people all evening," she stood up."I will take my leave now." And she left.

Val excused herself and ran after her.

"I am truly sorry, Talon," Imrahil said. "Lothíriel can sometimes be..."

Talon cut him off. "Do not worry about it, Prince Imrahil. No harm is done. Your daughter is very beautiful and very strong."

"I am glad you see it that way," Imrahil said. "Nothing is changed then?"

Talon smiled. "All is still the same."

"All right, what is going on? Who is he?" Val asked.

"You know who he is. Lord Talon," Liriel said. They had gone to her room, Val had seated herself on the bed and Liriel was standing by the window. "And nothing is going on."

"If you are expecting me to believe that, you are stupid. Usually you do not talk to them like that before they have asked you for a walk or commented that you have beautiful hair," Val said. "When I think about it, 'talk' is not exactly the word."

"Well, he annoyed me," Lothíriel said.

"Come on," Val said. "I know there is something else."

"Well, I don't like him," Liriel said.

Then it softly knocked on the door and Imrahil entered. "Valinea, may I have a word with my daughter in private?"

"Of course, my lord," Val said and left.

"What is it, Ada?" Liriel asked. "Have you come to talk some sense into me now?"

"Do not take that tone at me, young lady," Imrahil said sternly. "I have come to talk to you about your behavior. Not only tonight with Lord Talon, but also about your behavior last night. It is not acceptable. Do you think you can get away with everything only because you are a princess?"

"No, of course not..." Liriel started, but her father silenced her with a look.

"You are not as normal people, Lothíriel. With your title comes also responsibility, responsibility you do not seem to take seriously," Imrahil said.

"I am sorry, Ada. I know my behavior has been... less than exemplary this last months," Lothíriel spoke quietly.

"Well, you can be happy that Lord Talon took no offence from your behavior tonight. If he did I fear I would never find you a good husband," Imrahil said.

Liriel stared at him. "Husband?"

"Yes," Imrahil nodded. "Talon asked me if he would have my permission to marry you, and I gave it to him..."

"You... you arranged my marriage?" Lothíriel felt sick and had to sit down. "I must... wed that man?"

"Talon is a fine man, Lothíriel, and I would be proud to have him as my son-in-law. He will be good for you," Imrahil said.

Liriel felt her blood boil and she stood up. "How do you know what is good for me or not?" dhe looked furiously at him. "How dare you? You had no right to agree to marriage without as much as talk to me about it!"

"I had every right!" Imrahil said and looked at her. He ordered himself to calm down. "I am your father, Lothíriel, and I only wish to do what is best for you. Talon is a good man and will be a good husband."

"Get out," Liriel said quietly. "Im baur an na erui."

Imrahil nodded and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Liriel. Get some sleep and tomorrow you will have some time to think about this. Some time to adjust to the idea." Then he left her. 

Lothíriel stared at the door for a long while. How did he dare to do this against her? One thing was certain though. She was not going to wed Lord Talon of Lebinnin.

* * *

Éomer looked up as Éothain entered the hall. He had been on his way to his chamber, but the expression on his friend's face told him that rest would have to wait. "What is it?" 

"Scouts report Orcs near the villages just north of here," Éothain said.

"How many?" Éomer asked.

"The scout was not sure. 50 or perhaps 100," Éothain said.

Éomer nodded. "Assemble the éored. We ride now."

* * *

Translations: 

Im baur an na erui – I need to be alone

**Author's note: **Well, this was my first real chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. I am not entirely sure about this Elvish, but at least I tried.

I hope to start on the next chapter soon, but my laptop is not working right now, and I can't use the computer at home since I had to move to go to school, so I can only use the computer in the weekends. ï

Thanks for all the reviews! It was great to see that someone actually read what I have written! I was sooooo happy to get them! ï

Thanks all of you!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** You've heard it before and know that I don't own the LotR characters. I'm just reminding myself that I don't.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 2**

They were too late.

It was clear from the second they reached the first village. Even in the dark they could see it all so clearly.

The houses were burned. Blood was everywhere. Bodies of men, women and children were lying all around the houses, some inside, many nothing more than burned flesh. Many horses had also been slaughtered, others had escaped but that was not many.

Éomer stared at the scene before him, and it was as if time had stopped and he had no choice but to look at the bodies before him, the ruined homes and all the destruction.

He turned at his men. "Look for survivors! And bury the dead!" Then he turned his gaze at the sight before him. He swore that these enemies of the Mark would pay for what they had done.

* * *

Dol Amroth. 

It was a good morning, Imrahil thought. Nothing was wrong and most of the palace was still asleep.

Since it was still early and quiet, the prince enjoyed an early breakfast in his study. Later he would have a meeting with his councillors about Lothíriel's marriage to Lord Talon. Imrahil reminded himself that he had to send a letter to Lord Mardun, Talon's father, and arrange a meeting for them so they could discuss the formalities about this wedding.

Elphir had not exactly been thrilled that Imrahil had arranged Lothíriel's marriage. He meant his sister was too young to be wed now, and that she at least should be allowed to have something to say about all this.

Erchirion had reacted about the same way as Elphir. He too meant she was too young. But Erchirion would rather see his sister not married to anyone. He was far too protective of her. They all were.

Amrothos had reacted with most temper, telling their father that he should allow it be Liriel's own choice if she married or not.

Imrahil had told all of them that this was best for Lothíriel. One of the arguments he had used was what if they all died in the war? What would become of their sister then? At least now she would not be alone when she married Talon, since he wasn't a soldier and would defend Dol Amroth against the enemy rather than travel to Minas Tirith or east to Mordor and fight the Dark Lord. That was something he had agreed with Talon when he signed the contract.

Imrahil was lost in his own thoughts when the door burst open and the three princes of Dol Amroth hurried inside Imrahil's study.

"See what you have made her do now!" Amrothos shouted.

"How could you, Ada?" Erchirion asked.

Imrahil looked puzzled at his sons. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

Without a word Elphir stepped forth and gave him a letter. Imrahil read hastily through it, his face darkened. He dropped the letter to the floor and looked at his sons. "When did you..?"

"We found out only a few minutes ago," Elphir said. "I have sent out people, but I fear we are too late."

"It is your fault!" Erchirion said angrily.

Amrothos agreed. "Had you not forgotten who she is... how she used to be... this never would have happened."

Imrahil could hear his voice but not his words. All he could think was that his daughter was gone.

* * *

The night before... 

Lothíriel had not gone to this place for months. She actually hated this place, but tonight she could not find answers anyplace else.

She looked at the white stone before her. The head of a swan was carved in the stone, and under the swan was some Elvish letters.

Liriel felt a tear travel down her chin, followed by several others before she wiped them away. "I miss you so much... I wish you were here. Im baur lle." Tears came and she could do nothing to stop them. She had not been here since the funeral. She could never bring herself to come.

"Im car ú-ista man an car, Naneth,"Lothíriel whispered. Things had been so different since Princess Irinya, wife of Prince Imrahil, died.

Irinya had been loved by her husband, her children and her people. Lothíriel was not the only one to think that she had died too early, but no one needed Irinya more than the princess. The one that perhaps missed Irinya more than Liriel was Imrahil.

But Lothíriel did not know that. All she knew was that after her mother's death three months earlier, her father had not been the same as when she lived.Lothíriel had not been the same.

Lothírielwiped the tears from her face. "I am so sorry, Naneth... I have not been behaving as I should... I know I am not a common person... I know I am a princess and that I have responsibilities I have cared nothing about lately. Perhaps that is why this has happened..." she took a deep breath. "Ada has arranged a marriage for me. And I don't know what to do." She wished that somehow her mother would provide her with an answer, as she had done whenLothíriel had been troubled in the past. She knew deep inside that she would never hear the answer her mother would give her if she were alive.

But then again, if Irinya had been alive, Imrahil would probably never get this idea that it would be good for Lothíriel to marry.

"Lothíriel." Sheturned around to see Valinea standing behind her.

"This is the first time I have been here, Val..."Lothíriel whispered while she wiped away her tears. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know what bothers you," Val answered. "Liriel, I cannot give you advice as your mother used to do. I cannot even tell you what I think you should do. All I can is to support whatever decision you make."

"Hannon lle, Val," Lothíriel said. She stood up. "I know what to do now."

Less than an hour later she was in the stables. Val had been waiting for her. Lothíriel was not dressed in a gown, but trousers and a shirt under a dark-blue cloak that had belonged to her mother.

Val was holding Lothíriel's horse. He was tall and white, and in his saddle were a sword and some knives.

"I am sorry we have not been riding much lately, Thalion,"Lothíriel said and stroke the horse over his forehead. She had stopped riding when her mother had died, something she felt very bad for.

Val handed her a cloth with some food in, whichLothíriel put in her saddle. She turned at Val. "I will miss you, Valinea."

"I will miss you too, princess," Val said and they embraced each other. "Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle."

"Tenna' ento lye omenta."Lothíriel said and mounted Thalion. "I have written a letter to Ada. It is in my room." And with that she rode out of the city of Dol Amroth, leaving the life she knew and her family and friends.

* * *

The work in the village took most of the morning. They found three women, five children and one man that were still alive. Two of the children, a boy and a girl, were hurt so bad that they did not expect them to survive. One of the women was pregnant, but lost her child. The man died shortly after they had found him. 

"Take them back to Aldburg," Éomer ordered four of his men. "The rest of us will hunt the Orcs and kill them."

The éored mounted and left in the direction the tracks of the Orcs lead. The Orcs had left hours ago and they knew it would be hard to catch up with them.

Hours later they came across a camp.

"They were here not too long ago," One of the riders said. Éomer nodded.

"They cannot be far ahead," Éothain said. He looked at Éomer. "We can still catch them."

Éomer nodded. They rode away from the others. "Where do you think they are headed?"

"It seems like they're heading north," Éothain said.

Éomer nodded. "But at some point they will turn west."

"Why do you think that?" Éothain asked. "Why not turn east where the other scum will be waiting?"

Éomer had never voiced his suspicions to anyone except his cousin. They both thought something suspicious was happening in the west. They were attacked from west as much as east. "Have you noticed the number of Orcs attacking us from the west?" The other man nodded. "Don't you find it hard to believe the enemy have sent Orcs north of Rohan to attack in the Westmark?"

"Yes, but it is not impossible," Éothain said.

"No, but I do not think he would bother to send his scum first across the Riddermark just to attack from west," Éomer said.

"Where do you think they are from then?" Éothain asked.

Éomer didn't answer him, but looked at the rest of the men, waiting for them. "Let's ride."

* * *

'_Ada._

_When you read this I will be gone. I am sorry if this pains you, Ada, but this is something I must do. I am sorry that the last time you saw me I was angry at you. Tell my brothers I will miss them and say the same to Mariel, Alphros and especially Valinea. I love all of you. I am sorry I cannot tell you this face to face._

_Aa' isul nora lanne' lle. Lothíriel.'_

Imrahil read through the letter again. He had let her get away with much after her mother died. He had been so full of grief that he had let her get away with her behaviour, no matter how improper it had been.

Perhaps she reminded him so much of Irinya that he hardly managed to deny her anything. She looked exactly like his wife, but at some point, he had decided she would have to grow up, so he had arranged her marriage.

Now he wished he had asked her first.

Talon entered Imrahil's study. "Prince Elphir told me you wanted to see me, my lord."

Imrahil nodded. "Yes, Talon, come in." Talon did so and took a seat. "I am sorry about my daughter..."

"We will find her, my lord," Talon said. "As little time as I have spent in her company, I have become fond of her. She is still bound by the marriage contract."

Imrahil nodded. "That is if you will be willing to wed her if she returns."

"I told you, my lord, I have come to like her very much. One day it will perhaps be love between us. For now we must be concerned about getting her back." Imrahil nodded and Talon smiled and left. Once outside the study of Prince Imrahil, Talon smiled. This was perhaps not going as planned, but even if he had to use longer time on this, he would win. No matter what he had to do.

* * *

The Rohirrim found the Orcs they had been hunting. They were taking a short break on the plains. 

The Rohirrim charged. Éomer had ordered his men to surround them, and they were now attacking from all around the confused Orcs. Many were killed before they understood what happened.

The Rohirrim were warriors, they had trained on killing Orcs since they were boys. And they were highly experienced in cutting Orcs open, cutting their heads off or send their spears through them.

This battle did not last long, since the Orcs were no more than 60. Éomer turned at his men. "We return to Aldburg!"

* * *

Translations: 

Im baur lle – I need you  
Im car ú-ista man an car, Naneth – I do not know what to do, mother  
Hannon lle, Val – Thank you, Val  
Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle – Don't look for trouble, it will come to you  
Tenna' ento lye omenta – Until next we meet  
Aa' isul nora lanne' lle – May the wind fill your sails

**Author's note: **This ended up a little longer than planned, but I have always been unable to stop while I'm writing down my crazy ideas.

Well, my laptop is working again, so I won't be in such a hurry with the next chapter when I am home next week. Hopefully I will have a chapter ready when I get home.

So, I won't bore you any further with uninteresting details, but please review!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I'm just repeating myself: I don't own the LotR characters! But I really wish Éomer was mine…

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 3**

'_Follow your heart, and it will lead you to your destiny. Let it guide you and you will never be lost,' the woman said. She had beautiful dark hair and deep brown eyes. She was smiling at the girl who was sitting across from her, a girl about twelve years old, with dark hair flowing down her back, and green eyes looking directly into the woman's brown ones._

'_But cannot the heart deceive one?' the girl asked._

'_It can be hard to listen to and understand, but it can never deceive you," Princess Irinya told her daughter. 'Listen to what it tells you, daughter. It will never deceive you or lie to you.'_

Lothíriel remembered when her mother told her that. Liriel had asked her mother why her aunt Finduilas married Steward Denethor, since he always seemed to be so angry and rude towards her and her brothers. Irinya had answered that Denethor had not always been like that, that he once had been able to love his wife and that she loved him. She told her daughter that Denethor had become the way he was now because of Finduilas' death. Liriel said she did not want to end up with someone like her uncle. Irinya had smiled and told her to follow her heart.

Her heart had told Lothíriel to leave her home, to get away from the man trying to get her as his wife. The man that with no doubt would steal her body, but he would never have her heart.

She could not go south because there was the sea, and she could not get any further. She could not go east in the direction of Mordor. That would simply be suicide. So it was west or north. No matter where she went she would have to travel a long way through Gondor. Eventually she decided to turn north-east, to take the shortest way out of Gondor, although it meant she had to take the way with most guards and patrols. She simply had to cross paths with them when it was dark, and she would be more difficult to spot.

So the next days she spent in hiding, trying to sleep and rest, before the night came and she would travel. For sure her father had sent men to look for her, and many probably knew by now that the princess of Dol Amroth had ran away from home and they had orders to stop her.

By the fifth night she passed Minas Tirith, and the chance for anyone seeing her became less every day. So she started to travel when it was light, and sleep when it was dark. It was winter now, but it was not very cold. She remembered colder winters back home.

Without knowing it, Lothíriel crossed the border to Rohan, over two weeks after she left home. She did not know Rohan held a bigger adventure for her than she would ever imagine.

* * *

When he returned to Aldburg, Éomer received word from Théodred that they had to meet as soon as possible, so Éomer left for Edoras already the day after. 

Before he reached the gates of Edoras he was met by Théodred and Éowyn. The siblings gave each other a hug, and then Éomer turned at his cousin. After they had greeted each other, they slowly made their way back to Edoras.

"How fare you, cousin?" Théodred asked.

"I could have been better. War is brewing in the east, and more Orcs are spotted in the Eastmark every day," Éomer answered.

"Many Orcs are also in the Westmark. The more we kill the more seems to come," Théodred said. "And they come from the west."

"Are you certain?" Éowyn asked. "I know there are Orcs west of Rohan, but are there so many that they can attack us?"

"It seems so," Théodred said, "and some of these Orcs are different. They are larger, worse, and they seem to be better fit to travel across long distances and in the light of day. And they have a strange mark on them."

"What mark?" Éowyn asked.

"A white hand," Théodred answered.

They looked at each other and knew what the others were thinking.

"Can it be as we feared?" Éowyn asked.

Her brother nodded. "This is the proof we need. Saruman is not to be trusted, and if he gets his will, there will be nothing left of Rohan. The king must listen to this!"

"Uncle will listen to no one!" Éowyn protested. "He listens to no one except that snake."

"Not even Wormtongue can twist this evidence," Éomer argued. "He cannot make this seem any different from what it is."

"Éomer is right," Théodred said. "Father must listen to this. We cannot allow Saruman to get away with this."

"And what are you two going to do?" Éowyn asked and shot them both glares that would have killed them if looks could kill. "March to Isengard with all your forces and demand an explanation from him? Théodred, your father is not himself. He is even worse than he was. He will not listen, so stop being such fools and face reality!" She looked at both of them. "Wormtongue will manage to twist your words, make them seem different for the king. He will make it look like you are the enemy, not Saruman, and then our land will be without any leaders."

Théodred nodded, feeling sick and tired. He was annoyed that he could do nothing about this situation with Saruman. But his cousin was right; they could not act rashly and foolishly with this. They could not risk Saruman to get away.

Éomer did not feel ready not to argue about this. He wanted Saruman to pay. His Orcs burned their crops, destroyed their homes and killed their people, and was Éomer supposed to sit and watch him do it? No, he had to do something now. "What do you suggest we do then? Let Saruman kill our people?" he asked. "Shall we line them up so his Orcs can have some target practise?"

"I did not say that!" Éowyn argued. "I only said uncle will not listen to us, that he will do nothing about this. Our king is not the same. He is old and weak and only sits upon his throne all day because I must help him there. You have not seen him for weeks; you do not know how much worse he has gotten."

"But surely you understand we must do something?" Théodred asked. "We cannot sit and wait for Saruman to strike."

"We need more men," Éomer said. "Not even all our forces combined will be enough to stop Saruman shall he strike."

The crown prince of Rohan thought for a moment. "Yes, we need more men. We must train all those who wishes to fight. All those willing to die for their country, for their families."

"What are you saying? That we give weapons to farmers and stable boys?" Éowyn asked.

"We need reinforcements. We have lost too many men lately," Éomer said. He turned at his cousin. "You're right, we should train some men. But the king will not allow us to."

Théodred nodded. "We must do this without the knowledge of my father. And we must keep it hidden for people in Edoras and the servants of Wormtongue. You must cover the Eastmark, and I the Westmark."

"We must do this very carefully," the Third Marshal said. "If Wormtongue hears of it we will both be finished."

* * *

Lothíriel was not entirely sure where she was when she saw the houses down below the hill she was standing on. It was a village, but entirely different from the villages in Gondor. And the people she could see had all golden hair. 

"Man car lle nautha, mellon nín?" she asked Thalion. She smiled and rode down the hill and into the village.

Not wanting anyone to see her dark hair, she pulled the hood over her head.

She placed Thalion outside a stable, and then she walked in to what looked like a tavern. And true enough, it was a tavern. It was crowded, and Liriel barely made it to the counter. She heard the people talking. Some spoke in the common tongue, some in their own tongue. She realized she had made it to Rohan, their neighbour in the north, an allied of Gondor from old times.

She looked around the crowded room, and heard two men talking at a table near by. They were both young.

"I hear the Marshal plans to train more men to defend the Mark," the one who appeared oldest of the two said.

The other one nodded. "I have heard so as well. Word is travelling fast that those interested may report at Aldburg soon as possible."

Liriel wondered who the marshal was and where Aldburg was. She was more than a little curious about all this.

"Rumour has it that the king does not know about this," the first man said.

"But you have heard word that the king is not well, have you not?" the other man asked.

"Who have not?" the other asked. "I am not deaf, Déorl."

"I didn't claim you were, did I?" Déorl said. "I'm doing it, Arling."

"What?" Arling asked.

"I'm going to Aldburg," Déorl announced.

"Have you lost your mind? We need you on the farm!" Aldburg tried to reason with his younger brother.

"I'm leaving for Aldburg tomorrow," Déorl said. "I can't sit around here waiting for something bad to happen to Rohan. I have to feel like I am doing my share in protecting our land against our enemies."

Lothíriel had no idea where Aldburg was, but curiosity had taken over her, and she too would be leaving for Aldburg tomorrow.

* * *

**Author's note: **Well, not my best chapter, but in the next one will be much more Éomer/Lothíriel. Already have it planned, but not written. 

Thank you so much for the reviews! Keep them coming!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **If you really want to know what I mean about this, you can look at the previous chapters... damn! I still don't own Éomer!

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 4**

"Warrior with power along the path  
A hammerheart his gallantry to last  
Rhythm of sirens enemies take heed  
For in this war laws are in silent sleep"

"Nightquest" by Nightwish

* * *

It was not only Déorl who had chosen to go to Aldburg to defend Rohan in service of the Third Marshal. From the small village it was at least fifteen others, but Déorl's brother was not one of them. 

Lothíriel however was one of those riding out of the village. None of the men knew who she was. They did not even know she was a girl, since her hood was covering her face and her black hair. Her cloak was blue while most of the other's were green. They did not cover their faces as she did, and if anyone were to think about it, they would believe the 'boy' had a scar in his face or that perhaps he was just ugly.

During the journey, Lothíriel kept to herself, away from the farmers. As she observed the people she travelled with, she saw most of them were young men, the oldest perhaps 30. None were older and no one behaved as the soldiers she had seen in Gondor, or the soldiers she knew at home.

They reached Aldburg at dusk. Lothíriel was not sure what she had expected, but Aldburg seemed different from what she had imagined. She had believed the fortress to be made of stone, that it was larger than this. The fortress was of timber and it seemed just as strong as stone. It was guards at the watchtowers, and guards in towers above the gate.

As they closed in on the gate, a man shouted to them from one of the towers. "Hwa cuman to Aldburg? Are ge freound oþþe andsaca?"

A man rode forth and called back in Common Speech; "We are friends! We come from a village further south and wish to ride with the Marshal and his men. We wish to defend the Mark against our enemies. Word has come that the Marshal wishes to train more men in defence of our land. May we enter?"

The gates opened and three soldiers rode against them. Their leader was an elder man, perhaps in his sixties. "My name is Helmling and I take you to the great hall of Aldburg where you may sign in if you wish to defend the Mark."

So Helmling lead them in andLothíriel gave herself time to take a look around. There were many houses there, so she thought that perhaps the soldiers' families lived here as well. It was a huge stable near the gates, and in the centre of Aldburg a large building was. Helmling lead them there, so Liriel figured it had to be the great hall he had spoken of. What she noticed most were the carved horses you could see on every building. Mostly only heads of horses. And the banner she saw was of a white horse upon green. She concluded it had to be the banner of Rohan.

Lothíriel had only heard little about Rohan, but she had heard they valued horses above all else. She had heard they were a people of warriors and some had even said barbarians. But the only difference she had seen from the Rohirrim to the Gondorians was the fact that these men were fairer than people in Gondor.

The dismounted and went inside.

The hall was larger inside than it seemed on the outside. A fireplace was in the middle and long tables stood next to the wall. Torches on the walls lit up the large room a bit, but Lothíriel had a feeling it was this dark because it would make an effect of this to be graver than it perhaps could be.

A table was sat up ahead of them and two men were seated behind it. The man standing behind the table was the one who caught Lothíriel's eye.

He was wearing armour and a sword was at his side, but he had no helmet on his head. His hair was golden, but it seemed darker than what Liriel had seen on other men. It reached him below his broad shoulders. Or they appeared broad underneath his armour, however Lothíriel didn't believe it was only because of his armour he seemed so magnificent. He had the most incredible eyes. They were dark, but shining in the light of the torches. He was tall, taller than any man she had ever seen, even taller than her brother, Elphir, whom Lothíriel had believed towered over most men.

Not only was this man tall, had unbelievable hair, eyes, face, and shoulders, he was handsome beyond explanation and it was something about him that demanded respect, even if he had not said a word.

Somehow,Lothíriel had become last in line as the farmers signed in and was showed to where they could sleep and where to put their horses.

Suddenly Lothíriel was standing before the three men, but she couldn't take her eyes away from the man standing next to the two others, and she was grateful her hood prevented them from seeing where her eyes were.

Éomer, Éothain and Héothen, the scout of Éomer's éored, eyed the last boy carefully. He was smaller than most Rohirrim, but not much. He was dressed in a blue cloak instead of green, and Éomer did not know how to describe it, but something felt strange about this last boy.

"Who are you, lad, and why do you wish to ride with the soldiers of Aldburg?" Éothain asked, but the boy didn't answer. Éothain and Éomer exchanged glances. "Well?"

"Have you lost your tongue?" Éomer asked and only then did Lothíriel hear them, since she had been too busy to look at the most handsome man she had ever seen.

_By the Valar, even his voice... _She stopped the thought before it could go any further. Had she not ran away to make sure she would not have to marry? _And yet here you are, admiring a different man! _Then she realized she would have to say something, because the men were staring at her. "Hm... what did you..?"

"I asked you about your name, lad," Éothain said.

"My name?" Lothíriel repeated, but her eyes would not leave the tall handsome man.

"You have a name, do you not?" Éomer asked her.

"Yes, of course," Lothíriel said trying to make her voice to sound more like a man's than a woman's.

Éomer started to lose his patience. "Well? What is it then?"

"It is... Lo... Li..."Lothíriel thought desperately for an answer. She could not give her own name, for then they would know who she was and send her back home. Besides, they thought she was a boy, why not play along with it? What better way did she have of hiding than being in a faraway country dressed as a boy? "It is..."

"Yes?" Éomer asked. He looked over at Éothain, both wondering how this would turn out.

"It is Barr..."Lothíriel needed a name.

"Barr?" Éothain asked.

"No, I mean it is Boro... Farabor." _Farabor? _She asked herself. _Well, I hope Faramir and Boromir don't mind me borrowing the beginning of their names._ "My name is Farabor, son of Imra... Imral." _Imral? That sounds like a woman! Sorry, Ada._

"That does not sound Rohirric," Héothen commented.

"Rohirric?" _Think, Lothíriel! _"Well, of course it does not sound Rohirric. I am Gondorian." Great, the next thing she said would probably be she was a princess from Dol Amroth. Or perhaps from Mordor, to make things even more complicated.

"Gondorian?" Éomer asked. "What are you doing in Rohan?"

"I... Well, in Gondor, wom... men as young as me are not... allowed to fight... against the enemy... and I wanted to do my share against the dark forces,"Lothíriel said, praying they would believe her.

"But why come here?" Éomer asked.

"I... I thought that perhaps it was not so in Rohan... that young men, such as myself, would be allowed to train to be soldiers. And when I heard that the Marshal would train more men to fight against our enemies, I came here,"Lothíriel said.

Éomer glanced at Éothain again. He turned at Lothíriel. "Can you fight?"

"I know how to wield a sword,"Lothíriel answered. It was true she knew how. She had begged her brothers to teach her so she could play with them when they played warriors when they were younger. And after what seemed like an eternity, they had agreed to teach her. During the years they had taught her archery, how to throw daggers, and how to fight with her bare hands, although they did not have enough time to teach her properly how to fight without weapons.

Éomer turned at Éothain. "Hwa don ge hicgan?"

Éothain looked at his friend then at the boy before them. He had a strange feeling about this boy, that he would be the cause of something in the future, and that Éomer would be in the middle of this. Éothain could not explain this, nor could he say what would happen. "We beþurfan ma ælde, butan it is oð to ge."

Éomer nodded and looked at the boy. They needed more men, and if this boy could fight he might be useful. He wanted to fight, so could he stop him? Not really. If this boy wanted to fight, he would find a way. "Show him where to put his horse and where he can sleep."

Helmling bowed. "Yes, my lord."

So Lothíriel followed Helmling out while she wondered how she had gotten into this mess, and most importantly; who was the handsome man? He was in a high position, she could tell, but she wanted to know who he was.

Helmling took her outside and she took Thalion to the stable.

"You can put him here," Helmling said.

Lothíriel did so. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course," Helmling answered.

"Who was that tall man?" Lothíriel asked. "The one standing."

"That was Lord Éomer, Third Marshal of Riddermark. He is in charge of the east marches," Helmling answered.

Lothírielnodded, trying to seem uninterested, but to know his name made her feel like she never had before. What was this man doing to her? What was it about him that interested her so?

* * *

Why did a Gondorian want to fight with the Rohirrim? That made no sense to Éomer. Himself he would never consider to fight for another country. He would always fight for Rohan, and would never have gone to Gondor if he wasn't allowed to fight for Rohan. 

But he had to agree he would have been angry if anyone told him he was too young to fight for his country if he were the same age as the boy.

But it was something about this boy he could not quite place. Was it the fact that he was Gondorian? It could be. Or maybe Éomer was just being paranoid. There was probably nothing strange with this boy, it was just Éomer's imagination playing tricks on him.

Footsteps ended his thoughts and he turned to see Éothain coming. "All is ready?"

Éothain nodded. "The men will be up early to give these farmers their first training."

Éomer nodded. "What do you think about this Gondorian?"

"Farabor? I am not certain. He seems willing to fight if he travelled all the way from Gondor to do so, but we have yet to see how he wields a sword," Éothain said and Éomer nodded.

* * *

Lothíriel rolled over in her bed, her face against the wall, pulling the covers over her head. She could hear a distant voice shouting something, but she couldn't hear what it said. 

The night before Helmling had shown her where she could sleep. It was a small room she shared with three others, one of them was Déorl.

She was still sleeping when something woke her or rather shocked her out of sleep. She gasped for air and was looking into the eyes of Déorl, who was grinning and holding an empty bucket; the water that had been in it was making her freeze under the covers. The room was still dark so he couldn't see her face very well.

"What in the name of the Valar do you think you're doing?"Lothíriel stayed safely under the covers.

"The Marshal wants us ready right now, Gondorian,"Déorl said, still grinning like a fool. "Get dressed. Now."

Lothírielglared at him. What right did he have to tell her what to do? Then she remembered what she had done. What her foolishness had made her do. She was pretending to be a man in Rohan. _Really clever, Lothíriel! _She told herself. _Not only do you dress up like a man, you join the Riders of Rohan, pretending to be a soldier, which you're not, and you will probably not manage to pretend to be a great warrior. What am I going to do? _There was always the option of telling them she was a girl, but the princess dismissed that idea as soon as it presented itself. If there were one thing Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil were known for, then it was her stubbornness. She had gotten into this mess; she might as well stay and fight. Who said a woman couldn't fight?

* * *

When the day was finally over, Lothíriel had no idea whether to laugh or cry. Every bone in her body hurt. She had never been so exhausted in her entire life. 

The day had been one of the longest in her entire life, longer than the most boring dinner with the nobilities of Dol Amroth, and she did not care much for long, boring dinners where the men spoke of politics and the ruling of Gondor and the women spoke of the latest gossip at the court. She could only imagine what they said about her now, running away from a suitor most women would find attractive and could only wish to wed.

But Lothíriel was not like most women anyway, so she did not think much what they would say about her home at her father's court.

And what were the chances she would return home?

When she had first gotten out of bed, she had not even had the chance to eat anything. Déorl had told her the Marshal wanted them out immediately, so she had taken on the armour she had been given the night before, when they all had been given the equipment needed for battle. She already had weapons, so she had not been given a sword.

They had assembled outside the stables, mounted and ready for what seemed to be a long ride. But no matter how much she wished it had only been a ride, it had not been. After observing their skills in the saddle the Marshal made them spar against each other, on the horses. And Lothíriel were the worst rider of them all, but what else could you expect? She wasn't a Rohirrim. She was a good rider, but not _that_ good. She was not born atop a horse as she had heard some of the court women say about the people from Rohan. Of course they did not talk about them in a good way, but after seeing how they handled their horses, Lothíriel had no problem believing there actually was slightly truth in that saying.

So, the sparring contests at horse. It sounded easier than it was. It took Lothíriel two times to fall off her horse before she could end a match and still be in the saddle. And after achieving that, it took her another two times to manage to use one hand for guiding the horse, and manage to spar against her opponent. Luckily for her, she was not the only one having a bit of a problem at first. Both Déorl and Galrim had difficulties at first, and so did many of the others.

And after sparring against the other farmers came the difficult task of holding ones ground against one of the men in the éored. Éomer had taken ten men with him to help him train these new recruits. It was not easy to manage against one of the riders, but at least they did not have to be mounted, which was much easier and even though she did not win, Lothíriel did not do too bad.

Looking forward to jumping into her bed, perhaps have something to eat,Lothíriel rode back to Aldburg with the men, very pleased with herself. But once they were back, Éomer had arranged for them to clean the stables. Helmling explained that true soldiers thought of their horses before their own comfort. And so the wearied farmers that wanted to become soldiers, stood in the stables for three hours, before they took their horses in and gave them a throughout brushing and fed them, and then they finally could go to sleep.

And the princess fell asleep before her head touched the pillow.

* * *

Translations: 

Hwa cuman to Aldburg? – Who come to Aldburg?  
Are ge freound oþþe andsaca? – Are you friend or enemy?  
Hwa don ge hicgan? -What do you think?  
We beþurfan ma ælde, butan it is oð to ge – We need more men, but it is up to you

**Author's note: **Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry for updating sooo late! I've not been home for about two weeks, so I haven't had the chance to update any sooner. But since I haven't been home, it gave me some time to write and explore my crazy ideas! Really, I'm nuts when it comes to this.

Please don't kill me after this. I've told you I'm nuts! Don't blame it on me. Blame it on my parents... he he... only they knew they're my excuse for everything I do...

By the way, Nightwish is my favourite metal band from my neighbour country Finland.

So, no more boring details, but since I haven't had access to Internett, I'll read some of the stuff on and I'll write some more, so maybe you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter...

AND THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! I LOVE TO GET THEM!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **They're mine! They're mine! They're mine! (Looking at you) Oh, don't say that! Don't say they're not mine... Please? All right then, you win... they're not mine... but can't I at least keep Éomer? No? Why not? Why do you need him? Please let me keep him... I'll be nice... I'll kiss your feet... no? Oh, you're hard to please... all right then, but can't I wish they were mine?

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 5**

It was much that was happening in Rohan these days. The people were strong and proud, yet they were sad and most had no more hope. The king were said to be aging and his councillor in charge of things, Orcs were roaming freely across the Riddermark. What gave the people only a little hope in all this was when they saw their brave riders proudly riding across the plains in search for Orcs that were threatening their land.

People's hopes were that the Riders of Rohan would somehow free them from the Orcs, Wild Men and Dunlendings that were attacking the villages, killing their people and herds, destroying their homes and burning their crops.

But the riders were having problems of their own. How in the name of Eorl would they manage to train a flock of farmers and one young Gondorian boy to become real warriors?

* * *

The task Éomer had set out to was not an easy one. He expected trouble when he became Third Marshal of Riddermark, but he did not expect to train some brainless farm boys to become warriors in only a few weeks time. Word had reached him from his cousin that things were becoming worse in the Westmark. More Orcs and Wild Men were attacking the Rohirric villages and settlements.

Éomer seriously wondered if training new men were such a good idea after all. Perhaps he should just send them all home and tell Théodred none had come. But then Théodred would probably come for himself and make a speech in each village and ask them why none wanted to defend Rohan, so Éomer did not think that would work.

He was now watching the farmers on the training field sparring with each other using wooden sticks. Many of the men were not wearing a shirt, but a few did. Éomer wondered if they were afraid they did not have enough muscles or perhaps their skin was too pale. But what really made Éomer wonder what he had gotten himself in to, was the Gondorian boy. He was fully dressed in trousers, a shirt and a green Rohirric cloak with the hood pulled over his head. Amazingly enough he managed to fight his opponent.

Éomer shook his head and wondered why on earth anyone would want to train with so many clothes on.

When Farabor was finished with the match he walked over to a bucket of water and poured himself a drink. Éomer decided to have a talk with him and walked over.

"You know, it would not be so warm if you did as the other men and trained without a cloak on," Éomer commented.

Lothíriel almost choke as she heard him. If he only knew what he suggested... no doubt she would win every sparring match, since the men would be busier watching her than fight her. "Marshal..." she said as she turned at him.

"It will be easier to fight if you take the cloak of," Éomer said. "Why do you fight with it on you?"

_Think, Lothíriel! _"You do not fight without clothing during a battle, my lord."

"True enough, but this is not a battle, it is simply training," Éomer pointed out.

"Yes, well, I like a challenge. It is far too easy to fight without a cloak," Lothíriel said.

"Still, it is only training." Éomer said, but Lothíriel did not hear a word anymore.

She had a feeling she knew only too well. _Oh, please not that! _She knew what it was. She felt it in her stomach and she felt how it made her wet between her legs. Quickly she covered herself completely with the cloak, so no one would notice. Éomer had turned his gaze at the men sparring and Liriel used this opportunity to disappear.

Éomer had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had not noticed that the Gondorian had left. No man he had ever met was as strange as this boy from Gondor. And Éomer could not explain why he had talked to him in the first place. If he wanted to fight in a cloak, let him fight in a cloak. It was not Éomer's fault Farabor was a strange person.

But something bothered him with this young Gondorian. Something he could not quite put his finger on. And it bothered Éomer not knowing what bothered him.

* * *

Damn! Why did it have to be now? Or rather, why when she was standing so close to Éomer? Had it already been a month since her last time? Lothíriel counted the weeks and realized it probably was. But why when she had spoken to Éomer?

The last week Lothíriel had felt a tension building up within her every time she was near the Marshal. She had sometimes wondered how he would be to kiss. How his lips would feel against hers. Every time she caught herself thinking like that she cursed and told herself she would probably give him a heart attack if he found himself being kissed by a boy. Because that was what he thought she was. And if she suddenly would act upon her foolish imaginations she would most likely kill him before she had a chance to tell him she was a woman.

So Lothíriel pushed such thoughts in the back of her mind and instead thought about things that were happening now. Like how she would handle her monthly cycle with all this men around her.

After cleaning herself up and making sure no one had seen her, Lothíriel had told Helmling she needed some rest. He had nodded, saying he understood since the training cold be very exhausting. So Lothíriel now lay curled up in bed, feeling very sorry for herself.

Why was it women who had to be cursed with this? Why not men? Why did they have it so easy? It seemed very unfair, but Lothíriel also saw the problem if men were in a country far away and suddenly had the problem she had now.

Suddenly Déorl, Galrim and Halmod came in the door, and Liriel realized how late it was. She pretended to sleep instead of answering all sorts of strange questions from them. How she wished for this week to end fast!

* * *

A long week later...

Éomer watched his men give the farmers a long lesson in military strategies. Helmling were reprimanding them about something they had done during training that would have them killed had it been a real battle.

Éomer had just returned to Aldburg with his éored after they had hunted some Orcs from the Folde. The Orcs had not gotten very far before they were cut down.

He saw the gates open and a rider came through. He was obviously a messenger. When he saw Éomer, he hurried over to him. "Lord Éomer!" he cried out and dismounted while he tried to catch his breath.

"What news do you have?" Éomer asked.

"My lord, my name is Léother, scout in Lord Théodred's éored. It is a great battle going on at the Fords of Isen and I barely managed to escape to deliver you this message. Your cousin needs you aid. The battle goes ill," Léother said and tried to catch his breath.

Éomer did not have to listen to more. His cousin needed help and he would not waste another minute. "Éothain!" Éomer walked against him as he started to give him orders. "Assemble the éored; we ride soon. Have someone ready my horse."

"Of course, Éomer, but what has happened?" Éothain asked concerned. He had never seen Éomer so worried before.

Éomer sighed. "Théodred is in trouble. Carry out your orders."

Éothain nodded and left to do so. Éomer went to get his sword and helmet, while he silently prayed nothing had happened to his cousin.

Lothíriel had never seen Éomer so worried, although his face was almost expressionless. She had seen the worry in his eyes and wondered what had caused it. She wished she could do something to help him, to ease his worry, but banished the thought as soon as it presented itself. Again she reminded herself what would happen if he suddenly found himself in the comforting arms of one of his soldiers.

The best thing she could do right now was to saddle her horse and prepare for what seemed to be her first battle.

* * *

"Théodred!" The first thought that entered Éomer's mind when he saw all the dead were that he had failed his cousin. For a moment all he could was to stare ahead of him, hoping this somehow was all a bad dream. He could not dwell on this any longer and knew what he had to do. "Find the king's son!" he ordered his men and dismounted.

Lothíriel had never seen so many dead before. The only dead person she had ever seen before were her mother, and that was an image that still haunted her dreams. She had heard Éomer say Théodred's name and wondered how well he knew him.

"Mordor will pay for this." Lothíriel turned around to see the soldier who said this. The anger was to read plainly on his face. Then she saw Éomer roll an Orc over, so he was lying with his face up.

"These Orcs are not from Mordor," his voice was angry and Éomer wondered if this would have happened if they had done something with Saruman earlier. But it really didn't matter now. His concern now was to find his cousin and bring him home.

A soldier kneeling over something near the river called to him. "My Lord Éomer, over here!"

Fear gripped Éomer's heart as he saw the soldier kneel over a familiar armour. He couldn't be dead...

Lothíriel had also seen this look on Éomer's face. She turned at Galrim. "How well does the Marshal know the king's son?"

Galrim took a deep breath. "They are cousins. The Marshal is son of the king's sister."

He said something else, but Lothíriel had no idea if it was important or not. Rohan really was full of surprises. A royal marshal. And here she had been trying to get away from royalties, and she had ended up with the nephew of a king. If his mother was the king's sister, then she was a princess, what in turn made him prince, at least it would be told so in Gondor.

Éomer looked down at his cousin's face. Théodred moaned softly, almost impossible to hear, but Éomer heard. "He's alive," he said relievedand turned at Éothain, who had come to stand next to him. "We must ride to Edoras immediately. There is no time to waste. Help me to get him on Firefoot."

Éothain nodded and did as his friend had told him. Not ten minutes later they were on their way to the capital of Rohan.

* * *

Lothíriel had seen larger fortresses than Aldburg, yet she had found it impressing. As she had been in awe of Aldburg she was even more so by the sight of Edoras. The capital of Rohan was built on top of a great hill, and even before she had seen it closely she found the city very beautiful and strong.

They rode through the gates and through the city, until they were before Meduseld. There Éomer had two men to help him carry Théodred inside, while the others could only watch.

Lothírielturned at Déorl and Galrim. "What now?"

They both had little idea what happened next, and looked at each other instead of answering.

"Take care of your horses and get something to eat." They turned around to see Helmling standing behind them. "We will not leave Edoras for a while."

The three of them nodded and went to take care of the horses.

Lothíriel turned her gaze at Meduseld once more and saw a beautiful Rohirric woman run inside. Her golden hair flowed in the wind, but Lothíriel could not see her face as she disappeared inside so soon.

* * *

When Éowyn heard that her brother brought their cousin home badly wounded, she dropped all she were doing and hurried to the Golden Hall. The sight that greeted her when she entered Théodred's chamber were as if from a nightmare. Her dear cousin lay in the bed, so pale he looked dead already. He was so still she had difficulties picturing the cousin she knew; teasing her, laughing and smiling, training with Éomer, worry for his father...

Her brother was sitting next to the bed, and she sat down next to him, whispering their cousin's name. She glanced at her brother, and saw the look upon his face. She could tell he held little hope. He showed her one of Théodred's wounds and she closed her eyes. There really seemed as there was no hope...

"I must tell our uncle what have happened," Éomer's voice was above a whisper, butjust barely.

Éowyn shook her head. "We must tell him."

Éomer gave her a grateful look. At least it would be the two of them.

The siblings entered the Golden Hall together, both walking steadily toward king Théoden's throne. At least Wormtongue was nowhere to be seen, something Éomer was extremely grateful for.

With a last reassuring look at each other, they approached the king. Éowyn approached him first.

"Your son is badly wounded, my lord," she told him, but Théoden showed no reaction of having heard her. She glanced at Éomer, who only gave her a small smile. He started reporting the events that had led to Théodred's condition.

"He was ambushed by Orcs," Éomer told him, but still Théoden gave no indication of even acknowledging their presence. "If we don't defend our country, Saruman will take it by force."

The next that were heard was a voice coming from the shadows. A voice Éomer and his sister knew only too well, one they wished they had never heard. "That is a lie," Gríma Wormtongue came out from the shadows, ever looking like the snake he was. "Saruman the White has ever been our friend and ally." Wormtongue looked at the Third Marshal threatening for a moment, as if daring Éomer to prove him wrong.

Éomer was about to reply when moaning from his uncle caught everybody's attention. He was moaning Wormtongue's name; Gríma. Wormtongue went over to the king.

Éomer broke the silence that followed. "Orcs are roaming freely across our lands. Unchecked. Unchallenged. Killing at will. Orcs bearing the White Hand of Saruman." Éomer tossed the helmet he had taken at the Fords of Isen before the feet of his uncle. Wormtongue looked at it, insecure, and Éomer and Éowyn looked with satisfaction that he was uncertain for a moment. It quickly changed.

"Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" Wormtongue asked, changing the subject. "Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent... your warmongering."

"Warmongering?" Anger entered Éomer's voice as all suddenly lay so clearly before him. He grabbed Wormtongue and slammed him against a pillar. "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price, Gríma? When all the men are dead, you will take your share of the treasure?" The look on Wormtongue's face was one Wormtongue was unable to hide, one that made Éomer go cold to the bone. He recognized that look as lust and desire. To want to take a woman even against her will. And that look was directed at his sister, who made her way out of the hall this very moment, and that look made Éomer even more furious than anything else. His grip on the worm tightened. "Too long have you watched my sister. Too long have you haunted her steps."

Éomer felt strong hands grip him, forcing him to let Wormtongue go.

"You see much, Éomer, son of Éomund. Too much." The men gripped Éomer harder, and one hit him in the stomach, while he tried to free himself, without any success. They were at least four, and they had a strong hold of his arms. Wormtongue continued. "You are banished forthwith from the kingdom of Rohan... and all it domains under pain of death," he spoke slowly to let the words have the desired effect; however Éomer denied this as soon as he heard.

"You have no authority here. Your orders mean nothing." Again he was hit, but he continued to glare at the snake.

Wormtongue looked extremely pleased with himself. "This order does not come from me. It comes from the king." He held the parchment with the order on for Éomer to see, and no matter how hard he stared at the signature at the bottom, he could not deny it. It was his uncle's. "He signed it this morning," Wormtongue said, even more pleased with himself than he looked. The men started dragging Éomer, who still fought them, out of Meduseld. Wormtongue grinned and smiled after him. "If you are not out within the hour, you will be dead."

Being tossed out of the hall was not something Éomer ever imagined could happen. He especially never expected to be tossed into the arms of Háma, the Door Warden of Meduseld.

"Lord Éomer?" Háma asked in disbelief, making sure the younger man managed to stand before letting go of him.

Éomer glared at the large door, wishing he could walk back in and tear Wormtongue's guts open. "Ic will acwellan him! Awiergan him!" Éomer cursed in Rohirric and Common tongue. Never had he wanted to kill someone as badly as he wanted to kill Wormtongue.

The commotion had caught the attention to many of the people of Edoras. Lothíriel were standing next to Galrim, wondering what were happening.

"Éomer?" Háma looked even more worried at him. "What in the name of Eorl has happened?"

Éomer looked at him as if he had not noticed him earlier, then he calmed down slightly, yet his voice only came as a low growl. "Wormtongue."

Háma was more worried than he ever had been in his entire life. "What has happened?" he asked again.

Before Éomer had a chance to answer, the doors to Meduseld opened and Éowyn came out, fury written across her face. "How could you? Have you no sense at all? Why you even have a head I cannot bring myself to understand! You never use it anyway!"

Lothíriel could not help but wonder who this woman was and how she knew Éomer. _Oh, stop this! It is not like you have any right to be jealous! He thinks you are a man!_ But telling herself that did not make her feel any better or less jealous. Because that was what she was. Even if she admitted it to herself or not.

The only concern Éomer had right now, was to calm his sister. "Calm down, Éowyn. I could not bear to see him look at you in that manner. Only the thought what he could do with you given the chance..."

Éowyn cut him off. "I can take care of myself. This has only made things worse. Théodred is badly wounded and now you will be gone too. What will I do without you?"

Lothíriel's heart sunk faster and faster. They were obviously close. Too close for her taste, but she could not have expected for him to be unattached. What made it her business who he shared his bed with? Besides, he did not even know of her existence. Then it suddenly hit her. Where was he going?

"What are you speaking of?" Háma asked. "What has happened?"

Éomer sighed. "Banished. I have been banished." The word had a bitter taste in his mouth.

Háma stared at him, and now Éothain came out of the crowd. "Banished!" he called out in disbelief.

Éomer nodded grimly. "The order came from the king."

"But he cannot do that!" Éothain shook his head. "You're his nephew."

"The king is not as he used to be. And it was more Wormtongue's doing than it was the king's," Éomer said.

"What happens now?" Éothain asked.

Éomer stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what do we do now? Where do we go?" Éothain asked and grinned when his friend looked at him in total disbelief. "You did not really think I would let you go alone, did you? Sometimes you can be such a fool, Éomer."

"Then we ride, Éothain. To the borders of Rohan to ensure no more Orcs can come into our land," Éomer said.

When men heard that, many decided to follow the Marshal. His entire éored would follow him. And those who had survived in Théodred's and were not too badly wounded that they could not come, and some of the other men that had been stationed in Edoras.

In less than an hour the riders had assembled outside Meduseld. Men took farewells with their loved ones and Lothíriel wished she could see her family one last time. She looked ahead to see Éomer saying farewell to that woman. She went a little closer to hear them.

"Take care of yourself, Éomer," Éowyn said and gave him a hug.

"You know I will," Éomer said. "Take care of yourself, little one. You have no more brothers who can protect you and get banished by the effort."

Éowyn smiled. "Thank Eorl for that. How would I handle more of you?" A tear fell down her pale face. "Do nothing stupid, brother. Rohan awaits your return."

Lothíriel could not help the smile that grew across her face. She was his sister!

The men dismounted and with a final goodbye, they left Edoras. They rode through the gates and out on the open plains. Faith could have been worse to them. All were not lost yet.

* * *

**Translations:**

Ic will acwellan him! – I will kill him!

Awiergain him! – Damn him!

**Author's note: **I was thinking of throwing Éomer in the dungeon, but it did not give me very many options concerning Éomer and Lothíriel. It just seems much easier for them to fall in love if they're on the plains somewhere.

When it comes to the scene with Éomer's banishment, I know I did not have to write all that down, but I did not want it to just start when Éomer is thrown out of the Golden Hall. And the rest of the story will probably be a mix between the book and the movie; whatever seems to be the best way for this story.

Lady scribe of avandell, as you see I used your suggestion. I hope it worked, although it ended quite abruptly. Well, I could not use almost a week for her to deal with it, so I jumped over all the small details. It was a problem for her nevertheless.

And to the rest of you: thank you sooooooo much for the reviews! I'm absolutely... I don't know what to say, so I'll just say thanks and be over with it. Thanks, thanks, thanks, thanks!


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Do I really have to repeat myself?

**Warning: **Be warned... this chapter has something from both book and movie that may seem a little... well, not Tolkien. But this is a fan fiction, right? I can do whatever I want. (POOOOOR characters...)

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 6**

"This is not good," the youngest man said. "We must change our plan! We must do something quickly or it will fail."

His brother looked at him. "It will not fail, do you hear me? It will not fail."

The old man rose from the chair. "It all depends on the return of the princess."

"What if she does not return, father?" the youngest man asked. "What then?"

The oldest brother looked at their father. "She could be dead."

The old man nodded. "That is indeed a possibility, but until I know that for certain we cannot do anything. If she does not return she is a threat against our rule of Gondor, as the left living relative of any Gondorian royal house."

"What about the Steward's son, Boromir?" the youngest brother asked. "He has been gone a long time now. What if he returns?"

"Have you not heard little brother?" the oldest brother asked. "Rumours have it that the oldest son of Denethor is dead," he grinned. "And I have also heard that the Steward is using his other son too hard, and if that is true, I believe we do not even have to worry about Faramir. I think he will die before the war is over."

"That is good," the old man said. "You must be ready, my sons. When I say so, it is time for a new royal house that will rule Gondor."

* * *

They were silent and waited for their chance to strike. Neither man nor horse made a sound. Some of the riders glanced at each other, wondering what would happen. Would the man next to them survive? Would they survive? 

Éomer and the more experienced riders did not think like that. They were calm and the thoughts that filled their heads were how to do this best possible.

Lothíriel's heart was pounding so hard she was sure the riders next to her heard. Never in her entire life had she ever imagined to be in this position. But then again, she had never imagined that her father would arrange her marriage against her will either.

With a silent command from Éomer, the riders closed the ring around the Orcs. None were going to escape.

One single Orc had moved away from the others, and Éomer quickly ended his miserable life. The riders rode forth and charged the Orcs.

With the training she had received after coming to Rohan, added to the one she had from Dol Amroth, Lothíriel managed very well. She was cutting Orc skulls as good as the other riders and she was rather good at it.

She saw Éomer swing his sword better than anyone she had ever seen. From atop his formidable warhorse, he used both sword and spear to kill the Orcs that dared to believe they could kill the leader of the men that had attacked them.

Suddenly she felt a cold pain in her left shoulder. What could that be? She looked down she noticed the arrow there. She noticed she had fallen of her horse, but Thalion were standing over her, protecting her from the battle that were still going on.

She looked around and saw Orcs fleeing. She saw that Éomer had dismounted and were fighting one of the Orcs, one of their leaders, sword to sword. Éomer did not give the Orc any openings, and at last the Orc was slain by the Third Marshal of the Mark. And only then Lothíriel allowed her eyes to close.

* * *

She woke up by someone laying her in the grass. The sun had barely risen and she knew she had not been unconscious for long. Someone was taking her armour off. She heard someone telling her to take it easy. 

Suddenly she understood what was happening. "Déorl..."

"Don't worry, Farabor," Déorl answered. "We'll have you fixed up in no time." And with that he had her armour off and was starting to take off her shirt.

"Déorl, no..." It was too late. Déorl backed away from her in surprise, his eyes wide.

"Farabor..." he stared at her. "You are a woman!"

* * *

"What is so important for me to see?" Éomer asked annoyed. He had been very busy when Éothain came and told him there was something he needed to see. He had been in the middle of helping some of his men with the dead men and horses. "Éothain, answer me. What can be more important than..." 

Éothain cut him off. "Believe me, Éomer, you want to see this. Actually, you must handle this, because I have no idea what to do."

They went over to where four riders were standing and on the ground was a wounded rider. But it was something funny with the wounded rider. And as Éomer came closer he knew why. On the ground was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her hair was dark as the night and in the sunlight it was a strong contrast to all the golden haired riders. Her eyes were green and looking at him. Her left shoulder was bandaged. Her skin was lightly tanned and looked like silk. Éomer found himself wondering how it would be like to touch it. He quickly thought of something else and looked at the men standing around her.

Helmling only looked at the ground; Déorl looked like a child who had just been told that he was not allowed to play with his father's sword; Galrim looked confused and Halmod looked like someone had just stolen his horse.

"What is going on?" Éomer demanded to know. He looked at all of them, before he turned his gaze at the woman. He studied her for a long time. "Farabor is not really your name, is it?"

"No..." Lothíriel said quietly.

Éomer looked at the others. "I want a word with her alone."

Éothain nodded and left and the others followed. Éomer turned at Lothíriel again. "What is it?"

She could not give him her real name. That would simply get her free escort back to Dol Amroth. And at the same time she did not want to lie to him. _Oh, please! When did you start to care if you lied to him or not? After all, you lied about being a man. _"Liriel," Lothíriel answered.

"That is a start," Éomer said and glanced down at her, something that made her feel very small. "Are you from Gondor?" Lothíriel only nodded. "Why did you come to Rohan? Surely the story you gave at Aldburg cannot be true."

She had to say something. She wanted to tell him everything, but could not bring herself to do so. She could not say 'I have lied to you, my name is Lothíriel and I am a princess from Dol Amroth. I ran away from home because I am too stubborn to marry the man my father has arranged for me to wed, so I ran to Rohan. By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look very handsome in your armour?'

No, that would not work. "Well, I..."

"Well?" Éomer wondered if he had enough patience to let her explain everything.

"I... I wanted to see the world," Lothíriel answered.

Éomer looked sceptically at her. "You wanted to see the world? I cannot even begin to imagine that your family would allow you to leave, especially with the war so close."

"I do not have to explain my family situation to you," Lothíriel said.

"Why did you pretend to be a rider?" Éomer asked.

"Would you even consider letting me fight if you knew I was a girl?" Lothíriel asked. "Of course you would not. That is why I had to pretend to be a man."

"But why not in Gondor?" Éomer asked. "Why in Rohan?"

"I would not be able to convince anyone I was a man. I know too many Gondorians that would be able to recognize me," Lothíriel answered. "Here I had a better chance not to get caught."

"Well, you were caught," Éomer reminded her.

"I did not exactly plan to get hurt, Lord Éomer," Lothíriel said.

"The thought did not even occur to you?" Éomer asked.

"Of course I knew it was a possibility," Lothíriel said. "But I did not expect it to happen."

Éomer considered the possibilities he had. He could not send her back to Edoras, since she had been banished with the rest of them and anyone who escorted her back would be in danger for his own life. He could not leave her here with Orcs and other dangers, because that would probably result in her death. And send her to Gondor was not an option, since he could not risk any of his men being discovered by any patrols and he could not send her alone. She would probably not go willingly to Gondor anyway.

"How do I know you are not lying to me? After all, you could be a spy," Éomer said.

"A spy from Gondor?" Lothíriel asked. "Why would Gondor bother to send spies to Rohan?"

"Perhaps you are a spy for the Dark Lord. His servants can take many forms; why not send a woman to spy on Rohan?" Éomer looked at her.

"That is something of the most ridiculous I have ever heard," Lothíriel said. "I am not a spy. If I were, would I choose to be banished with you?"

She did have a point. "Why did you choose to be banished with us?" Éomer asked.

"I don't know. It is not like I had anything better to do," Lothíriel answered. "So what are you going to do to me?"

"Be ready to ride. Your wound is not that bad. The armour protected you from being hurt badly," Éomer said and left her.

* * *

Lothíriel felt like she rode naked. She had her armour on, not wishing to look so different from the others in case they would meet someone, and it was safer in case they ran into some Orcs on the way, but still she felt as if every man in the éored could see right through her armour. No doubt the news that she was a girl had spread quickly. 

"So what is your name?" Halmod asked. She had not noticed him, Galrim or Déorl before he spoke.

"Liriel," she answered. She looked at them. "I am sorry for deceiving you. For making you think I was someone I am not."

"I want to know why you did it," Galrim said.

Lothíriel looked at him. "You want to fight, right?" He nodded. "Is it so different that I am a woman? I can fight just as well as you can. I have already proven that I can. It is just that because I am a woman I knew I would not be allowed to fight if anyone knew."

"I can understand why you did it, Far... Liriel," Déorl said and gave her a supportive smile. Lothíriel smiled back, happy someone understood.

"I do too," Galrim said. "It is just hard to understand you are a woman now."

Lothíriel could not help but grin. "I have always been a woman, Galrim."

He grinned back at her. "Well, it takes a while to get used to the thought."

Halmod only shook his head a rode ahead.

Lothíriel looked at the other two. "He really is not comfortable with all this is he?"

Galrim shrugged. "No, he's not. I don't think he likes the thought about a woman riding with the éored."

"Don't worry," Déorl said. "He'll get around soon enough."

"I hope you are right, Déorl," Lothíriel said. She had become good friends with Déorl, Galrim and Halmod. It saddened her to see that Halmod could not accept the fact that she was a girl.

Out of nowhere a voice called from behind them: "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

Without any verbal command, the Rohirrim checked their steeds, wheeled, and came charging round. They made a running circle around the three people standing there, and without a word or cry they halted. They pointed their spears at the strangers and then Éomer rode forth. He did not stop before he was sure he was within range to use his sword if that became necessary. "What business does an Elf, a Man and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" he asked. "Speak quickly," he added when none of them said anything.

"Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine," the Dwarf said.

Éomer looked annoyed at him. He gave his spear to Éothain, dismounted, and walked against the Dwarf. "I would cut of your head, Dwarf... if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

The Elf had his bow ready as his spoke, his hands quicker than eyes could see. "You would die before your stroke fell."

If the man had not stepped between them, Éomer would have raised his sword and ended the three of them then and there, although he had his doubts it would go so well.

Lothíriel held her breath, her bow ready in case of battle. How would this end?

The man spoke; "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóín, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."

_My king? _Éomer wondered. _There is but a shell in Edoras sitting on the throne in Meduseld. Théoden has been gone for a long time and I hold little hope he will ever return._

Éomer studied the man closely, and then found that they had no ill intentions towards Rohan. The men of the Mark were not easily fooled, and Éomer was sure this Aragorn was telling the truth. "Théoden does no longer recognize friend from foe. Not even his own kin." As he spoke he removed his helmet and the men took their spears away from the strangers. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund, Third Marshal of the Mark." Although he had given them his name, Éomer was not finished being suspicious towards them. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that we are banished," he eyed each of them as he continued. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked. And every where, his spies slip past our nets."

"We are no spies," Aragorn said.

No, he was not finished being suspicious towards them. Three strangers travelling alone through Rohan were a little too strange that Éomer thought lightly of it. "What are you doing in this land?"

"We are hunting Orcs," Aragorn answered. "We came from Rivendell, through Moria and Lothlórien, and the gifts and the favour of the Lady go with us."

"Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell," Éomer said. "Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe."

The Dwarf, Gimli, looked angry, and Lothíriel could not really blame him. She had read about Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn in the great library of Dol Amroth, things that had been written down by Mithrellas, the Elven-maid that had wed Imrazôr the Númenórean, and their son, Galador, had been the first Lord of Dol Amroth, and she found it hard to believe anyone could speak in such a fashion about Elves, and especially Lady Galadriel. Yet here was the Marshal speaking of things he had probably never seen.

"You speak evil of that which is fair beyond the reach of your thought, and only little wit can excuse you," Gimli said.

Once again Aragorn had to go between them. "Please, Éomer. Perhaps you would wish to learn more," Éomer nodded and Aragorn continued. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive."

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night," Éomer told them.

"But there were two Hobbits. Did you see two Hobbits with them?" This time it was no anger in Gimli's voice, only concern.

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn added quickly as Éomer looked puzzled at the Dwarf.

"We left none alive," Éomer informed them. He felt bad for them. He knew how it was to lose friends. He had done so himself many times since he became a soldier. "We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed towards the smoke from the direction they came.

"Dead?" Gimli asked in disbelief.

"I am sorry," Éomer said and finally reacheda decision. He whistled. "Hasufel! Arod!" Two horses with no rider came forth. He handed the reins to Aragorn. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell." Aragorn only nodded, and Éomer put his helmet on and mounted. "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands. We ride north!" And as fast as they had halted, the Rohirrim were moving, riding away from the three strangers.

Lothíriel had seen a different side of the Marshal. He had enough compassion to lend them horses, although he had been ready to kill all three of them at some point. And that made him even more magnificent in her opinion.

* * *

**A "little" note from the author:**

The little warning I had at the top was about the meeting between Éomer, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. As you probably saw, it was mainly from the movie, but I put in a few things from the book, and that Éomer said his name was my own idea. (Although he says it in the book too, I did not use that). The reason why I took both from the book and the movie, was that I needed the thing about Gimli and Éomer and their little disagreement about Lady Galadriel, and writing the entire thing from the book would have been too long. You will understand in a later chapter why I needed that to be in here.

Yes, I can see why my use of both Lothíriel and Liriel could be confusing. I hope you all will let me know if something in the story could have been done different or better. Remember, you do not help the author with only positive things, so please tell me if there is something. I will see if I can change it or not, but I will not go back and fix the chapters I have already posted. (Too much work and I don't have enough time for that.)

And then it was my use of were and was. My English is not perfect. I have never claimed it was nor will I ever claim it in the future. As I have said before; English is not my first language.

So my point is that I will try to work on my grammar. And thanks to lady scribe of avandell for pointing out all this. Actually, this has really helped me. I hope you continue to help me, even as small as it may seem to you. I really appreciate it.

And thanks for the reviews. They really make an author happy! (Hint: I want more!)


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **If you really want to know, look at the previous chapters...

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 7**

He stared into the fire, watching the flames dancing before him. It was days since he had been banished. What had he done to deserve such a fate? Away from his home and his family. He could no longer protect his sister, his uncle was bewitched and his cousin was near death, perhaps already dead. No one was there for Éowyn. She was alone, tending to her king and cousin, and Wormtongue was in the shadows, watching and waiting, and no one was there to stop him from hurting her. Éomer hoped Éowyn would manage on her own. She was strong, but as an elder brother should, he worried for her. He wanted to be there with her, to make sure she was all right. To make sure the snake did not get his hands anywhere near her.

And here he was sitting, unable to protect her. He could do nothing to ensure her safety. He should have killed Wormtongue when he was given the chance. And it was not only the time of his banishment, Éomer added grimly to himself. A few months earlier Éomer had the chance to get rid of Wormtongue. But the laws of the Golden Hall would demand him to be executed for his misdeed. Éomer should have allowed that to happen, only to get rid of Wormtongue. His own life was little worth if he could save his people, his king, his cousin and of course his sister. But at that time sense had ruled out the option of killing the worm, and sense had come in the form of his sister.

Éomer cursed himself for not having killed the worm much earlier. How much easier Éowyn's life could have been.

Still frustrated with himself for his inability to help his sister, he walked away from the camp. Maybe a walk in the cold night would clear his thoughts.

Lothíriel watched Éomer leave the camp. She had seen the look on his face. The fury. The despair. She wanted to know what bothered him. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help. She buried her head in the cloak she used as a pillow. She had come to Rohan to get away from men! Suitors her father wanted her to wed! Yet here she was, thinking of a man she hardly knew anything about.

_That is not true. _She corrected herself. _I know he is a good man. Brave, strong, and a good leader for his men. One they will follow even to their death. One I will follow to my death. _The realization that she would follow Éomer to her death hit her so hard she had difficulties breathing. She had not realized she would gladly die for him. But she knew now that she would, if the choice would ever be forced upon her.

Taking a deep breath she decided to follow Éomer, to see if he was all right.

She found him down by the stream that was not long from the camp. He was sitting next to it on the grass. Feeling a little unsure now, she wondered if she should turn. But no, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth had never turned back before and she would not start now.

Carefully she walked down to him. She made sure he knew she was coming. Growing up with four warriors in the house she knew better than to sneak up on them unexpected.

As she took a seat next to him, he glanced over at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you leave the camp. I thought you might need someone to talk to," Lothíriel said.

"Thank you, but I am fine," Éomer said.

"You do not look fine," she commented.

He did not answer that, but instead gazed up on the sky. It was a clear night, and the stars were shining brightly.

"Will you tell me about it?" Lothíriel asked.

"Why do you care?" Éomer asked.

"I thought you needed a friend. Believe it or not, my lord Éomer, I do care." More than you will ever understand, she added quietly to herself.

Éomer took a deep breath. "I do not know what to do anymore," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" Lothíriel asked.

"It is not as you think," he said. "I know what to do here. I know we can do our part for our country by killing Orcs and keep them away from the villages, but... while I am here, my sister is alone. I have always protected her, ever since we were children. Now she is alone." Lothíriel did not say anything. She only listened. "The worm desires her above all treasure in the world, and he has been promised her by Saruman, as a reward when Rohan has fallen. But he does not know that when Rohan fall, Éowyn is also fallen. None of the house of Eorl will watch our land be taken. We will die defending it and our people."

Lothíriel learned important things about the Rohirrim only by listening to Éomer. She learned about the pride they held in their country and people. She heard the pride in his voice when he spoke of his sister, how she would fight to the end to prevent Rohan from falling. She knew Lady Éowyn was not the only one who would fight. She knew Éomer would fight to the end. He would do all in his power to keep Rohan from falling into the hands of the enemy. And she would be by his side along the way she promised herself.

"I know Éowyn can take care of herself," Éomer said. "She is strong and proud and will never fall prey for Wormtongue's cunning. But..."

"It is the job of the elder sibling to worry for the younger." Without realizing it herself, Lothíriel had laid a hand on Éomer's arm. He did not seem to mind, though. He offered her half a smile and nodded.

"I know," he said. "It is our duty and privilege."

"And every younger sibling's curse," Lothíriel added with a smile.

"Believe me when I say it can be a curse for the elder too," Éomer said.

"I believe you," Lothíriel said with a smile. "I grew up with three elder brothers. They had their share of trouble from me."

"That I do not doubt," Éomer said. "As far as I can tell you are some trouble still." He was silent for a moment. "How is your wound?"

"It is better, thank you," Lothíriel bit her lip before continuing. "I am sorry for my deception, Lord Éomer. I never meant any harm, but I knew you would never let me fight if you knew I was a girl."

"You are right about that," he said. "I fear I will never know why you do this, why you are who you are, but I want you to know that I admire your courage. I know not many women who would willingly ride into battle, or share room with men who believed you to be one of them. Or choose to be banished with hundreds of riders and sleep under the open sky, while knowing the chances for our return are limited."

"Except for your sister," Lothíriel said with a smile.

"Ah, yes, Éowyn. And I will do all in my power to keep the two of you separated.Bema know what ideas you might give her would you ever meet," Éomer said.

"Wish upon a star we will never meet then," Lothíriel said and smiled.

"What?" Éomer chuckled lightly. "Wish upon a star?"

"Oh... it was from a song my mother used to sing. She said our wishes would come true if we wanted it hard enough, if we wished upon a star." Lothíriel smiled at the memory of her mother. It was the first time she had thought of her mother without sadness.

"You said it was from a song?" Éomer asked. Lothíriel nodded. "Do you know it?"

"I know some of it," she answered, "but I fear I lack the voice my mother had."

"Will you let me be the judge of that?" Éomer asked.

"Do you really want me to sing it?" Lothíriel asked and smiled. Éomer nodded. "You really do not know what you are putting yourself through."

"I told you to let me be the judge of that," Éomer said.

"All right, but do not say I did not warn you." She looked back at the camp, as if to make sure no one but Éomer would hear her. And then she started.

"Wish upon a star  
Take a step enter the land  
Walk through the air  
Take my hand  
Wishmaster's will  
Join him the quest of dream  
A make-believe  
Is all we need

Wish upon a star  
No matter who you are  
The second star to the right  
Harbinger's gate  
Beyond the boundaries  
Blossom ballet  
In the great wide somewhere

Wish upon a star  
Believe in will  
The realm of the king of fantasy  
The master of the tale-like lore  
The way to kingdom I adore  
Where the warrior's heart is pure  
Where the stories will come true"

Her song ended, but Éomer did not wish it to end. "You have a beautiful voice, Lady Liriel," he told her.

That made her blush, but she smiled. "Thank you. There are much more of that song, but I cannot remember it. It is a long time since my mother sang it..."

"You speak of her as past. What happened to her?" Éomer regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Sometimes even he wondered why he had a head. As Éowyn used to say, it was not often he used it. "I am sorry, I should not have asked..."

"It is all right, my lord," Lothíriel said. "She... passed away soon five months ago. A stupid accident, really... we were out sailing. My family dwells near the sea and we had taken the afternoon to spend some time together..." she wiped away a tear. "The weather changed suddenly. We were not prepared for the storm and... mother was used to be in a boat, but she... lost her balance and fell into the water... she hit her head against something... she was such a good swimmer, yet..." Now the tears fell freely down her cheek and she made no attempt to wipe them away. "I was nearest and before anyone managed to stop me, I jumped in after her... the sea was so powerful... I was so tired..." Éomer was now holding her close to him, his arms comforting around her. None of them knew how they had ended up with her in his arms, but none made any effort to pull away. "The sea can be a dangerous mistress. Sometimes so calm and quiet, and you cannot really imagine it to be so cruel... I do not know how long I looked for her. I do not remember what happened before my brother pulled me back up in the boat." Lothíriel paused for a moment. "We looked for her body for several weeks before we found it... my father and one of my brothers found her..."

"I am sorry, Liriel. I had no idea how cruel way you lost her," Éomer said. "I know how you feel. I lost my parents when I was 11."

Lothíriel looked up at him. "Both of them..? So young..?"

Éomer nodded. "My father was slain by Orcs. My mother perished of grief not long after. My sister and I were taken to Edoras to be raised by our uncle. So I know how you feel. You lost your mother in a terrible way, and not long ago."

Lothíriel nodded. "Thank you... I have not cried for her before. Not like this... and I have not talked about it to another either..."

"What about your family?" Éomer asked.

"My family grieved themselves and since I grew up with only brothers I have always thought I had to be as strong as them to be allowed to play with them," she smiled sadly. "Of course I did not need to. I could have cried and spoken to one of my brothers or my father, but... well, some things are hard to change."

Éomer nodded. "I thought I had to be strong for my sister when we came to Edoras. I did not cry for mother or father in front of her, my cousin or my uncle. I refused to show any feelings and my time was spent to train to become a rider."

"You never cried for your parents?" Lothíriel asked.

"Eventually I did," Éomer replied. "It had been boiling up inside me for months. A half year I believe. After a sparring I lost, against Éothain I might add, I ended up being carried inside by my cousin, and my uncle spent the night in my room to try to comfort me."

"How did it work?" Lothíriel asked.

"At last I had no more tears to shed and we talked for hours. I told my uncle how angry I was when they left me with the responsibility of raising Éowyn, and how angry I was for him and Théodred to interfere to get me to talk about my parents. It did not occur to me until several days later how strange it was that the king put all his duties aside to care for his angry nephew," he offered her a smile. "Several years later I understood he did it because he loved me and Éowyn as son and daughter."

"Now you speak of him as past, Éomer," Lothíriel said. "Do not lose hope. Even the strongest bewitchment can be broken."

"I must hope for a miracle for the king to be rid this bewitchment," Éomer said.

"I do not believe the time of miracles is over," Lothíriel said. "I wish upon a star they are not."

"I wish you are right, Liriel," Éomer said and smiled. "I wish upon a star you are right."

For a long time they did not speak. They looked into each others eyes and Éomer stroke his thumb over her chin. How he had ever believed her to be a man was beyond him. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She closed her eyes as he leaned closer against her, her lips ready for him to kiss her.

"Éomer!"

_Éothain! _Éomer thought annoyed. His friend had the worst timing possible.

Lothíriel opened her eyes and rose. She did not know if she should be annoyed or relieved that Éothain had called when he did. She smiled at Éomer as Éothain ran down the hill towards them. "Thank you, Éomer."

Éomer smiled and nodded as she made her way back to the camp. As she passed Éothain, she noted the strange look her sent her, but she didn't care and just walked back to the camp.

Éothain came down to Éomer. "What happened?"

Éomer gave him a strange look. "What do you mean? What are you doing here?"

"When I did not find you in the camp I became worried and..." Éothain gave his friend another strange look. "What are you doing down here? And what did the lady do here?"

Éomer smiled to himself. "We wished upon a star."

Éothain looked bewildered at him, but before he could ask anymore questions, Éomer was walking back to the camp.

* * *

The next day they rode north again. Éomer had decided to patrol the northern border, before turning back and keep a close eye on the western border. It was from the west Éomer feared they would be attacked. 

Lothíriel was riding next to Déorl, Galrim and Helmling. Halmod had not yet settled with the idea of her being a woman, so he kept with some of the other men. This was of course annoying, but as Galrim had pointed out to her this morning; if he wanted to be a fool, then let him. She glanced ahead and saw Éomer riding next to Éothain. She wondered if he would have kissed her had they not been interrupted. She wanted to think he would have. She certainly wished so, but at the same time she was glad they had not kissed. That would only complicate things, and she did not need that right now.

She did not deny she was attracted to him, but was it anything else? Was it emotions involved, and in that case, did he feel the same for her? She did not know what she wanted to believe. She had a suitor back home. Talon was rich, young, prosperous, and even handsome. He was everything a pretty, little princess could ever dream of, but Lothíriel was not a pretty, little princess. Perhaps she did not know what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want. And Talon was something she didn't want.

But did she want Éomer?

One thing was certain; her father would never allow her to wed a soldier of Rohan, nephew of the king or not.

* * *

As he had the night before, Éomer was still awake long into the night, watching the fire. Only this night different thoughts filled his head. He had been so incredibly close of kissing her. He would have done it had it not been for the fact that Éothain came at that precise moment. Liriel was attractive, but this was not the time to get involved with any woman. They were banished, they were on the open plains and they were surrounded with hundreds of men. No, it was not the time to get involved with any woman right now. 

Éomer shook his head at himself. Liriel was not only attractive, she was beautiful. It was a lie to say she was not. But with beauty came mystery.

Éomer glanced over at her. She was sitting with two young soldiers and Helmling. She was wearing a blue cloak, one she apparently had taken with her from her home. Her dark hair was flowing down her back, her eyes was shining in the light of the fire. Never had Éomer seen hair as that. It was black as the night, but in the light of the moon he had noted how it sometimes appeared blue. Like the dark, almost black colour the sky sometimes had at night, when it was very cold outside, but without a cloud and you could see every star.

Her eyes did not appear only green in the light of the fire, but a mixture of green and a deep, blue colour. Had he ever seen the sea he would have said her eyes was a mixture of the green colour of the plains of Rohan and the blue colour of the sea.

Their eyes met across the camp, and for a long moment neither could draw their gaze away from each other. It was as if all sounds from the camp were tuned out, and no one was there except them. Lothíriel was the first to look another way, and Éomer stared into the flames again while he wondered what else fate had in mind for him.

* * *

**Author's note: **This time it won't be so long. I promise. 

I changed my name from Leowyn11 to Lometari, since the first I had really sucks. It was just a name I came up with in two seconds, but I hated it form the beginning. Personally I like Lometari much better.

The song was another Nightwish song. I warned you, didn't I? That Nightwish is my favourite band and I may use their songs in my fanfics. I didn't? Well, now you're warned. I may use some Nightwish songs in my fanfics, all right?

Silawen, when you reviewed a previous chapter you told me about a site called Countries United, but it never appeared where it can be found. I'm pretty sure I know what site you are talking about. I was in there once, but now I don't seem to be able to find it again. (My damned computer is always making life hard for me!) Well, I was only wondering if you would bother to let me know where it was. I would be very grateful!

Hopefully, that was all I had to say this time. I hope to have another chapter ready soon. So just review and maybe you'll save my day when I check my e-mail at school.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Same as always... I wish someone would just give me all these characters so I didn't have to write a disclaimer all the time.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 8**

The camp was still asleep. Morning had not yet come, but it was not long until the sun crept over the mountains. Lothíriel was sitting in the outskirts of the camp, clad in shirt and trousers and her blue cloak. Deep in her own thoughts she did not hear another come over to her.

"What are you doing?" she looked up to see Éomer.

"Waiting," she answered with a smile.

"For what?" Éomer asked.

"The sunrise," Lothíriel said.

"You do not think you should get some sleep instead?" Éomer asked and took a seat next to her.

"I would rather watch the sunrise," Lothíriel said, smiling. "It reminds me that some things remain constant no matter where in the world you are."

"Not everywhere," Éomer said, nodding eastwards.

"Well, almost everywhere," Lothíriel said. "I was just thinking how comforting it is that the sun is the same here as it was at home. Only the surroundings are different, but the sun is the same, as is the sky and the stars." She smiled at him.

Éomer wondered if she had any idea how beautiful smile she had. And what that smile made him think. "Do you miss your home?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Lothíriel admitted. A sad smile crossed her face. Would she ever see them again? She missed her father despite of everything that had occurred before she left Dol Amroth. She missed her brothers and she missed Mariel and Valinea. She and Val had been friends for years, and when Mariel married Elphir she also became a close friend. And she missed her nephew. Lothíriel wondered how much Alphros had grown. She wondered if she would ever see him again. Would she see him become a man as his father or would she only remember him as a small child, desperately to get his parents attention?

She turned her attention back at Éomer. "Yes, I miss my home, but not as much as I miss my family. But it was my choice to leave and I will never regret my decision to leave," she looked into his eyes. "Had I not left I would never have met you."

Before Éomer had time to come up with a reply, his lips were captured in passionate kiss. All his senses left him and all he was aware of was those sweet lips upon his own. Unfortunately her lips left him just as soon as they had captured him.

Lothíriel was afraid she had drawn the wrong conclusions as he did not respond to her kiss. "Sorry, that was inappropriate of me." He did not respond, and she blushed, wondering if there was a hole in the ground somewhere she could just slip into.

Slowly Éomer's senses came to use again. "Are you sorry for kissing me?" he asked her and couldn't hide the smile that appeared upon his face.

"No," Lothíriel answered, also smiling. "I am not sorry."

"Good," Éomer said and recaptured her lips. This kiss was filled with passion from them both, not only one-sided as the first had been.

Had any of the Rohirrim been awake, they would have seen the two of them in a passionate kiss, the rising of the sun in the background.

* * *

When the men woke, Éomer and Lothíriel continued pretending as if nothing was different, as if they had not crossed a sacred line that perhaps was better not crossed. Lothíriel had no idea where to go from here. Did she tell him that she had lied to him? About her name, her reason for leaving home, about... everything.

She could not tell him. It was only a kiss. She did not even know if he felt anything for her, but by the Valar she felt something for him!

Riding next to Galrim and Déorl all day certainly was a test of strength. They expected her to talk, as they always did, but her thoughts were nowhere near a conversation with her friends. All she managed to think about was that kiss, his lips, his eyes, his voice... all she managed to think about was Éomer.

Ahead of the éored, Éomer was having similar problems. He barely managed to focus on what Éothain was talking about.

"I think we should consider the possibility of..."

Éomer had no idea what his friend was talking about. It might be important, so he decided to pay attention.

"But then again..."

Forget it. It was hopeless. Whatever Éothain was talking about, it could not be that important. Unwillingly Éomer's thoughts travelled to Lady Liriel. She had the capability to catch him by surprise. He had not expected her to kiss him, but he did not mind. He had been so close to kiss her the night at the stream. He had done it if Éothain had not interrupted them. Now he had _almost_ forgiven his friend. He glanced at Éothain. He would forgive him if he would just shut up soon.

* * *

Lothíriel sighed. They were surrounded by men, so there would be no way to get to talk to Éomer in private. She started brushing Thalion. She smiled as she remembered their kiss this morning.

"You must be more thoughtful when you are taking care of your horse." She turned around to see Éomer standing next to her with Firefoot.

She realized she must have forgotten all about Thalion, as the brush had fallen to the ground. She picked it up. "Sorry, Thalion. Im car ú-nautha. Im car ú-faeg an."

Éomer raised an eyebrow at her. "Was I so caught up in your beauty that your words sounded as if spoken in a different tongue?" He talked in a low voice, since the men was not far away. Not close enough to hear them if they spoke quietly.

Lothíriel blushed slightly. "No, you heard what I said. The Elvish tongue is still used much in Gondor, and even more so in Dol Amroth."

"Dol Amroth? Is that where you are from?" Éomer asked.

_Oh, start thinking before talking! _"Not far away," she answered. She hated it that the lies came so easily, but she could not tell him she was a princess from Dol Amroth. He would send her back home, and then she would never see him again. And she could not bear that.

"I do not think we could get away tonight," he said, looking around. "There is too high a risk for us being seen together, and I do not think it would be good for the éored if they knew what their marshal had been up to lately."

"I understand, Éomer," Lothíriel said, smiling.

"So I will just have to wish you a good night then, Liriel," Éomer said.

* * *

Éomer was cleaning his sword when Éothain took a seat next to him. "Anything to report?" Éomer asked.

"Nay, all is good," Éothain answered.

"Then why this strange look upon your face, my friend?" Éomer asked.

Éothain shrugged. "What is going on between you and Lady Liriel?"

Éomer frowned. "Where do you have that from?"

"You do not deny it," Éothain commented. "So something is going on?"

"The relationship between Lady Liriel and I is none of your business," Éomer said, continuing to clean his sword. Had he glanced at his friend he would have noticed the grin upon his face.

"Relax, Éomer," Éothain said, chuckling. "Even a fool could have guessed what happened down at the stream."

_Well, because of you nothing happened, _Éomer thought. "And what do you think happened?"

"It is not my place to guess your affairs, Éomer," Éothain replied. "Although I have to admit she is a beautiful woman."

Éomer nodded, "yes." He stared in her direction and could not get his eyes off her.

"Well, it is good to see someone has finally caught your heart," Éothain said.

Éomer looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Relax. I am only glad someone has your heart. Although I find it ironic that the woman to do so is not a Rohirric shieldmaiden, but a shieldmaiden from Gondor," Éothain said.

"Are you implying that I have lost my heart to her?" Éomer asked.

"I am not implying anything, my friend. I am stating a fact," and with that he left.

Éomer stared at the steel of his sword while pondering Éothain's words. Was he right? Had he indeed fallen for her? Glancing over at her again, where she was seated with some of her friends, he could not help but feel a little jealous that she was not here with him.

He looked at his sword again. He couldn't have fallen for her. No, this was only something that would pass. It would be complicated if he had fallen for her. He had sworn never to wed anyone like his sister! Not a woman who would train with him with a sword or race across the plains of Rohan. He glanced at her again as she laughed of something one of the men had said, making a movement in the air that was supposed to be a stroke with a blade.

Oh,Bema help him! He had fallen for a shieldmaiden from Gondor!

* * *

"Wake up, Rohirrim! Where is your Marshal? Éomer, where are you?"

Lothíriel opened one eye, and then the other, wondering what was going on. Had that booming voice only been a dream? No, it had not. She realized that when she saw that magnificent white horse riding into the camp. She then noticed who was riding it. _Mithrandir! He cannot see me! He will recognize me! What if he tells Éomer?_

Éomer was fully awake when he heard that voice. He was standing, his sword in his hand. "What is going on?"

Gandalf saw him and rode over to him. "Ah, Éomer, there you are."

"Gandalf?" Éomer looked puzzled at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I come from Edoras and bring grave tidings," Gandalf said and dismounted. "Théoden King is no longer under the spell of the traitor Saruman. However Saruman seek revenge and has bred an army that will attack Rohan in a short time, I fear. Your uncle has lead the people to Helm's Deep to seek refugee, but I fear there is nowhere out of the Deep shall they be trapped."

Éomer nodded. "There is no way. Only the caves there are to hide within, but there is no way out of them."

"Under an attack, Théoden will be hard pressed there," Gandalf said. "You must come, Éomer, and aid your king." He paused for a moment. "Éowyn is there with them. I am grieved to tell you that your cousin is dead."

Éomer nodded, refusing to show any feelings in front of his men that were near by. "And the king... he is well then?"

Gandalf nodded. "Théoden is the man you remember from your childhood, Éomer. But time is of no waste now shall we reach Helm's Deep before it is too late."

"We will reach the Deep before it is too late," Éomer said. He turned to give orders to his men. "Break camp! We ride at once!"

Gandalf went to the outskirts of the camp to wait for the Rohirrim to break camp. Lothíriel already had her armour on, and leading Thalion by the reins, she approached Gandalf. He saw her, a surprised look upon his face. He started to greet her in a quite loud voice. "Ah, Pri..."

Lothíriel ran forward and jumped up and placed her hand over his mouth. "Do not say my name!" She looked around to see if anyone had seen her before she took her hand away. "I am simply Liriel here."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "That does not keep me from wondering what the only daughter of Prince Imrahil is doing here, surrounded by Riders of Rohan that were banished some time ago, not to mention the fact that shewas wearing Rohirric armour."

"Mithrandir, please, I can explain, but as you said yourself time cannot be wasted," Lothíriel said. "We must come to aid of Éomer's people."

Again Gandalf raised an eyebrow at her. She wondered if it was because of the informal manner she had said Éomer's name in or the fact that she had said 'we must come to aid'. Apparently it was the latter.

"And by saying 'we' what do you mean?" Gandalf asked.

"I promise I will explain all when I have the chance, but for the love of the Valar, can you not let the subject pass for now?" Lothíriel asked.

"Until later. Indeed Imrahil has quite stubborn children. You are no better than your brothers," Gandalf said.

"Hannon lle, Mithrandir. I take that as a compliment," she smiled.

Éomer came over to them. "One of the scouts saw Erkenbrand with his éored yesterday. They were far from the Deep..."

Gandalf nodded. "I will find Erkenbrand, Marshal, and we will meet you tomorrow afternoon at last," he mounted Shadowfax and was on his way.

Éomer turned at Lothíriel. "Are you meaning to ride with us?"

"Well, I am not staying here," she replied, "of course I am coming with you."

"It is not just a few Orcs we are after. This will be a great battle, Liriel. I will not have you hurt again," Éomer said.

"And I will not be. Éomer, I have trained with your éored for many weeks. You have seen me fight. If you still believed me to be a boy we would not be having this conversation," Lothíriel said. "And it is my decision if I come or not. I will not let you and my friends ride to Helm's Deep alone. You are far better off if I am with you. And did I mention it is my decision? And what are you going to do anyway? Tie me to a horse and send me well on my way back to Edoras? I will either ride with you or after you. So you really have no choice but to allow me to ride with you." She was out of breath. 

Éomer shook his head. "You are more stubborn than anyone I have ever met. I can order you to stay behind."

"No, actually, you can not. I will still come," Lothíriel said. "Had you not discovered me, I would have obeyed almost every order you had given, but since you now know I am a woman I will not obey your orders since I am not really a member of your éored."

Éomer sighed. "What if I say you are a member of the éored, and since I am the Marshal, I can order you to stay behind?"

She smiled. "Well, since I am now officially a member of your éored again, I say that you cannot leave me behind since being a member of the éored means that I have sworn an oath to defend the Mark against its enemies. Therefore I cannot stay behind, and you have no way to win this argument. Besides time is running out," she reminded him.

Éomer looked around. The men were ready. "Fine," he growled and they both mounted, she with a satisfied look upon her face. "Forth Eorlingas!" And the Rohirrim rode south.

They rode through the rest of the night and the morn without rest and at afternoon that day they met up with Gandalf and Erkenbrand. Together they continued to Helm's Deep.

* * *

**Translations:**

Im car ú-nautha. Im car ú-faeg an – I did not think. I did not mean to

Hannon lle, Mithrandir – Thank you, Mithrandir

* * *

**ellenflower: **Bad timing indeed! I am sure Éomer agrees with you. At least Éothain does not like to stand up at sunrise so he could not ruin it this time. Glad you've enjoyed my story, and I finally found the website. Thanks!

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **Yes, wasn't it annoying that he came? Well, it went better this time. Thanks for your review!

**lady scribe of avandell: **Glad you liked it! And they finally kissed in this chapter, without any interruption! Thanks for this review and all the others!

So, as you can see I need more reviewers. Have some sympathy with me and push that nice little button so you can review, all right? I'll thank all of you.

Well, I'm tired and I've got to stand up early tomorrow. Am I just so happy to sleep long in the morning that I feel sorry for myself that I have to stand up 11.30? Well, enough from me for now. I'm tired and I got a cold, and I'm going to bed.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them...

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 9**

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?  
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?  
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?  
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?  
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;  
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.  
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,  
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

* * *

Across the plains they rode like the wind. With no stop they had been riding, proudly following their leaders. Ahead of the riders rode the Third Marshal of Riddermark upon his great steed Firefoot. The Riders of Rohan followed proudly the son of Éomund, whom they had followed even when he was banished from Rohan. They would have followed him wherever he had led. To Éomer's right was the White Wizard riding atop Shadowfax, the lord of the mearas. Although Firefoot was of the mearas as well, it was Shadowfax who gave the horses the strength they needed to reach Helm's Deep without a break. 

On the other side of Éomer rode Erkenbrand, lord of Westfold. Erkenbrand had drawn off the men he could gather and was on his way to Helm's Deep when Gandalf had reached him.

With them rode Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, though they knew her only as Liriel of Gondor. She was as willing to die for Rohan as the Rohirrim was, though the greatest reason for this was one that she for now would keep hidden deep in her heart.

Through the night they rode. When the first rays of sunlight came over the mountain, Helm's Deep lay before them. Gandalf rode first up on the ridge and looked down upon the men fighting the Uruk-hai of Saruman.

"Théoden King stands alone," he said.

Éomer rode up to his side. He could see his uncle surrounded by Orcs. He would not let him stand alone. "Not alone," he unsheathed his sword. "Rohirrim!" The Rohirrim rode up, stopping behind Éomer and Gandalf. Raising his sword again Éomer called out. "To the king!"

The Rohirrim leaped down the hill. The Orcs prepared themselves for them to come, their weapons ready. The sun reached down to the Deep and blinded the Orcs, and the Rohirrim charged the host of Isengard.

The battle that followed was not long. The coming of the White Wizard filled the enemy with madness, and the Orcs reeled and screamed and cast aside both sword and spear. Like a black smoke driven by a mounting wind they fled. Chasing behind them were the Riders of Rohan, and ahead of the Riders were Éomer. The Orcs were cut down, for the Rohirrim were not about to let them flee after all they had done. Those who managed to flee passed under the waiting shadow of the trees; and from that shadow none ever came again.

* * *

Lothíriel had fought as valiantly as the men she rode with. She had cut down as many Orcs as she had the chance to, and that were not few. Now she looked around to make sure Éomer was all right. He had sought her out with his eyes, and he nodded to her, relieved to find out that she had not fallen on the battlefield. 

She rode over to him. "Did I not tell you I would not get hurt?"

"Perhaps this time you were lucky," He replied.

She frowned. "It was not luck, Lord Éomer. I am rather skilled with the blade. And do not deny it. I am good, am I not?"

"You are," he admitted, "and no one can accuse you of being shy either, Lady Liriel. Your words are as sharp as your blade."

Lothíriel flashed him a grin. "Only in the last few days I've found both traits very useful."

Éomer knew she was referring not only to the resent battle, but also their argument if she could come with them or not. He knew he would never hear the end of it that she had won that argument and proved her skills in battle. He already knew of her skills with weapons, though. She had trained with them for a long time, while they believed her to be a man.

Éothain rode over to them. "Lady Liriel, you must come."

"What is it?" Lothíriel questioned.

"Your friend, Déorl," Éothain replied. "He is badly wounded."

* * *

Lothíriel hurried inside the fortress, to the rooms that was used by the healers now. Déorl had been laid on a cot near the furthest wall. Galrim, Helmling and Halmod were sitting next to him. She hurried over to them and kneeled next to the cot. 

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Bad," Galrim said harshly.

"He will not make it," Halmod said quietly, for the moment putting aside the fact that his former friend Farabor was a woman. He looked at her. "He has lost too much blood. The blade cut him deep. They cannot fix the damage that was caused."

Déorl slowly opened his eyes. He looked at their faces. He did not even have to ask.

"Déorl," Galrim said. "You should rest, my friend."

"I will not... make it..." Déorl said.

"You should save your strength," Helmling said.

Déorl was so tired. He barely managed to keep his eyes open. "I know it is the end," the young Rohirrim said. "It is a good end... we defeated the Uruk-hai."

"That we did," Helmling said with a smile. "You are a brave warrior, my friend."

Déorl smiled weakly. He looked at his friends. "It has been a pleasure to ride with you, my friends..." he looked at Galrim.

"You have done well, my friend," Galrim said. "You are one of the bravest warriors I have ever met."

Halmod nodded. "A true Rider of Rohan."

Déorl motioned for Halmod to lean down. Whatever Déorl whispered made Halmod frown. "Promise me, my friend," Déorl said, his voice becoming weaker.

"I promise," Halmod said after a few moments.

Déorl looked at Lothíriel. "It has been a pleasure... Liriel of Gondor..."

"It was my pleasure, Déorl," Lothíriel said.

Déorl smiled at them one last time, before his eyes closed and he would never open them again.

A single tear ran down Lothíriel's face. She had only experienced death once before, and that was with her mother. Déorl's death was a reminder that people died no matter where you were. Death was no different in Rohan than in Dol Amroth. "Îdh mi sîdh, mellon nín."

* * *

Éomer went inside the hall. The hall of Hornburg was filled with the men that had not been wounded in the battle and the women and children that had sought refugee in the caves. He saw Lothíriel sitting near a wall, looking at the food she had taken. He went over to her. 

"You know, you will not be less hungry if you simply stare at the food," he said.

She smiled sadly at him. "I know, but..."

"You are thinking about your friend," he said and took a seat next to her.

Lothíriel nodded. "Déorl was so young. He had his life ahead of him. It should not have ended."

"He wished for no other ending," Éomer said. "Liriel, he knew it was a possibility he might die in battle. As you must know it is. He died in honour; he died defending his land and his people. He died for what he believed was right. What I believe is right. Believe me when I say his death was a good one."

Lothíriel bit her lower lip. She knew he was right. Déorl would not have wished to die any other way. "I believe you," she said. "I know you are right, and I know we can all die in battle," she smiled. "He died for the freedom of his country. I only wish he could be here to see it."

"Because of him and the other warriors that have given their lives, perhaps others will," Éomer said.

Lothíriel had to fight the need to kiss him. They were not alone, and she was dressed as a soldier. If someone saw the Marshal kiss a soldier they would surely die of a heart stroke.

Similar thoughts seemed to be flowing through Éomer's mind. "Shall we go outside for a while?"

She grinned at him. "Sounds good to me."

But apparently the Valar had decided differently. The moment Éomer rose, Éowyn ran towards him and embraced him. "It is god to sceawian eow eft, broðor. Ic agan forléas eow."

"Ond ic eow, sweostor," Éomer said and returned her embrace.

Éowyn turned at Lothíriel. "I am sorry, good soldier, but I must borrow my brother for a moment."

Lothíriel was grateful the hood covered her face. "No problem, my lady," she muttered, struggling to make her voice sound like the voice of a man.

Éomer sent Lothíriel a regretful look as he followed his sister.

"I am sorry to drag you away from your friend, but it has been so long, brother," Éowyn said and smiled. "When you rode away from Edoras I was afraid it would be the last time I saw you. I am glad it was not."

"As am I, sister," Éomer said. "Gandalf told me the king is himself again."

Éowyn nodded, still smiling. "Our uncle is no longer under the hold of Saruman. Have you not met him?"

"I have been busy," Éomer answered. In truth he had been a little afraid to hope that the spell had been broken, and he knew that both he and his uncle had been busy after the battle, taking care of their men and the horses, and to see to it that the dead men were not on the battlefield, but had been laid to rest to await their burial.

"Well, I know uncle has been busy as well, but he has been looking for you," Éowyn said. "He is over there."

As Éomer followed his sister, he noticed that the smile had not once left her face. He was surprised to see such a change, but wondered if it was only because the battle had been won and that the spell upon their uncle had been broken. Was it something else?

Éowyn took him to a long table where his uncle was sitting, with his captains, Gandalf and the three strangers Éomer had come across on the plains. Théoden was the first to notice his niece and nephew and he smiled. He rose from his chair and Éomer bowed. "Halettan Théoden Cyning!" Éomer said in a clear voice. "It is a joy to see you again, my lord."

Théoden smiled and laid a hand on Éomer's shoulder. "I is good to see you again, nephew, and under better circumstances. I am told our meetings the latest years have been less than friendly."

"And perhaps it is better unspoken of and forgotten," Éomer said.

"You were banished by me, Éomer. It was not Wormtongue's signature you saw, but mine. For that I am sorry, and I hope you will forgive me," Théoden said.

"There is nanwuht to forgiefan, eam," Éomer said.

Théoden smiled. "Come," he told his nephew and niece. They took a seat on each side of the king, for Théoden would have it no other way. They were the last living family he had left.

"How is your friend?" Théoden asked Aragorn.

"Haldir will be fine with time," Aragorn answered.

Éomer gave him a questioning look. "Haldir?"

"The commander of the Elves from Lothlórien. They were sent to aid in their battle against Saruman. Many died. Haldir was badly wounded, but he will live." It was Legolas who spoke.

Théoden turned at his nephew. "How fares your men?"

"I lost fifteen of my men at Fangorn forest, and twelve horses. Here twenty-two men died, some are still missing. Thirty of the horses are dead. Of all the men that came with us I fear too many died," Éomer said.

The conversations continued for a while. Éomer did not say much, he just enjoyed the company of his sister and uncle. It had been so long since they had been together. The only thing that was missing was his cousin. Théodred should not have died, but nothing could be done with it.

He was wakened from his thoughts by Gandalf's voice. "Wormtongue persuaded you to banish Éomer. Had not Éomer and his men defied the orders of Wormtongue and remained in Rohan, the Uruk-hai they battled outside Fangorn forest would have reached Isengard with a great prize. Not the prize Saruman desires above all else, but two members of my company that shares the knowledge of what Saruman desires. Dare you think of what they might now be suffering, or what Saruman might now have learned to our destruction?"

"I owe much to Éomer," Théoden said. "Faithful heart may have forward tongue."

* * *

Éomer looked for Liriel after he had been able to get away. He found her outside, away from the others, watching the stars. Since no one was around he took the liberty to turn her around and kiss her passionately. Lothíriel was surprised at first, but it was not many seconds before she was returning his kiss. She parted her lips and his tongue started to explore her mouth. 

The kiss ended too soon for her liking, but she smiled at him. "I could get used to surprises such as this one," she told him.

"Could you?" he asked her, grinning. "That is good, because I intent to surprise you more in the future."

"What will happen now, Éomer? Will we return to Aldburg as if nothing had happened? Or do we stay here?" Lothíriel asked.

"Tomorrow we will ride to Isengard," Éomer answered. "After that we will ride back to Edoras where there will be a feast for those who died here, to honour their memory."

"And after that?" Lothíriel asked.

"I do not know," Éomer answered. "Maybe we just should take a day as it comes, and stop to worry of what will happen next."

Lothíriel nodded. "So what will happen now, my lord?" she smiled at him. "I mean at this moment. Here."

"I will kiss you until we are both out of breath, and then I will kiss you some more," Éomer said.

"You will?" Lothíriel asked. Éomer nodded. "Good." He kissed her and put his arms around her. He pulled her closer and could fell her curves through the cloths she was wearing. In a way it would have been safer to still have his armour on. As promised they were both out of breath when the kiss ended.

* * *

**Translations:**

Îdh mi sîdh, mellon nín – Rest in peace, my friend  
It is god to sceawian eow eft, broðor – It is good to see you again, brother  
Ic agan forléas eow – I have missed you  
Ond ic eow, sweostor – And I you, sister  
Halettan Théoden Cyning! – Hail Théoden King!  
There is nanwuht to forgiefan, eam – There is nothing to forgive, uncle

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **It took some time for them to kiss, but they finally did it! Thanks for the review!

**lady scribe of avandell: **Glad you liked it! I actually noticed some of the mistakes I made after I had posted the chapter. It's really typical me doing things like that. Well, I was tired and it seems like I have no imagination when I'm not at home, talking to my sister about what should happen. I wrote almost the entire chapter in one night after talking to her. I'm not making excuses, it's just that I should have noticed that ladder/latter thing. Well, that doesn't matter now. I'll just say thanks for your helpful review and hope you'll keep reading!

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **About time, right? Thanks for the review!

**Shallindra: **It will be more kisses coming. In the next chapter I hope, if everything goes as planned. Thanks for reviewing!

**ellenflower: **Hmmm... I won't tell you. You'll just have to continue reading if you want to find out what happens when he finds out. Thanks for reviewing!

Finally more reviewers! I was beginning to wonder if anyone was reading this. Well, thanks to all of you, and keep reviewing! I still need more!


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own them.

**Author's note: **I'm back! Sorry for not updating for a very long while. It's seems that a writer's block had a very strong hold of me. Damn those writer's blocks.

I haven't forgotten that they all rode to Isengard after the battle at Helm's Deep, but in the movie there is no real scene from Isengard, and to write it based on the book will just bee too long. So I won't write it in this chapter, but maybe it will be a flashback or something later. And to write the entire thing is not relevant for the story either. Well, I'm gonna shut up now and give you guys a chance to read the story.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 10**

He had missed his cousin's funeral. Théodred never should have died. He was the heir to the throne. Théodred's place had been next to Théoden. It was not Éomer's place, nor was it his wish to stand there now. His uncle had told him what was to be done. He would officially be named heir to the throne of Rohan. It was a position he had never wanted; one he never thought would be his. Not in his wildest imaginations had he ever believed he would be named heir.

He was standing next to his uncle, watching the people that were inside the Golden Hall. He saw Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn standing next to Gamling. He saw Éothain and Liriel on the other side of the hall, with the rest of the éored. He did not know why, but he was comforted by the fact that she was there. His uncle's voice brought him back to reality.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!" Théoden raised his cup, and the others did also. "Hail!" they cried in one voice. Théoden continued. "Théodred my son is slain. I name Éomer my sister-son to be my heir."

Éomer had thought himself prepared for those words, but it turned out he was not prepared at all. His heart skipped a beat and he did not look at the people in the Golden Hall. He stared passed them, his eyes fixed on a suddenly very interesting spot on the wall. He had not been prepared of the loud cry that came from the people, as they hailed him as the heir to the throne. His eyes met Liriel's, and she smiled to him, but it was sadness in her eyes. He had told her that he had no desire to be king. She knew he did not want the power or responsibility.

Éomer needed air. He made his way through the crowd, but that was easier said than done. People wanted a word with him, to congratulate him and offer their support. When he finally made his way out of the Golden Hall, he was out of breath only by speaking to all the people. He leaned against the wall and gazed upon the plains of Rohan. He would do his duty to his land and people, but that did not mean he had to like the idea of being the future king. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand upon his arm, and he reached for his sword, only to remember that he did not have it on him.

"At ease, soldier, it is only I," Lothíriel said softly.

Éomer took a deep breath. "You should know better than to sneak up on a warrior."

"But you were not armed," Lothíriel replied. "There was nothing to fear. And I am not totally defenceless," she reminded him.

"That you certainly are not," Éomer said. She came to stand next to him, slipping her hand into his. Neither said anything, they simply enjoyed each other's company. There was no need for words.

At last Lothíriel turned at Éomer. "Perhaps we should return to the feast. As the king's nephew I am sure many want a word with you."

"I would rather spend my time with you, Liriel," Éomer said softly against her ear.

She smiled. "As much as we both would want that, I am sure someone will soon be suspicious about our whereabouts," she frowned. "The éored would not want their Marshal to be distracted while we are still at war."

Éomer kissed her lips. "This is a distraction I would not mind."

Lothíriel smiled. "I am serious, Éomer! What would the men say if they suddenly came and saw us like this?"

"I would not mind," Éomer muttered against her lips, running his hand through her hair.

She did not push him away, though she continued to argument for why they should return to the feast. At last he nodded, and they returned inside.

The two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, had come with them from Isengard, as they were companions of Gandalf and Aragorn. Now they were dancing on a table, singing.

"Oh, you can search far and wide  
You can drink the whole town dry  
But you'll never find a beer so brown  
But you'll never find a beer so brown  
As the one we drink in our hometown  
As the one we drink in our hometown

You can drink your fancy ales  
You can drink 'em by the flagon  
But the only brew for the brave and true  
Comes from the Green Dragon"

The Hobbits toasted and drank. Lothíriel smiled and looked at Éomer, who only gave her a small smile in return. She wished they could stay this happy forever, for never before had she been as happy as she was now.

* * *

Many hours later the Princess of Dol Amroth was half sitting half laying on a bench, a mug of ale in her hand. _Damn those Hobbits! _She thought. Pippin had found her over at the barrels to get some ale to herself and Éomer. Pippin had been surprised to find a woman with dark hair amongst the Rohirrim, one who was dressed in shirt, trousers and a blue cloak, and not a gown as the other women. She had presented herself, as had he, but she had not mentioned that she was indeed a member of the éored of the Third Marshal of the Mark. But Pippin had found her very beautiful, and was puzzled by her appearance. He asked if she wanted to have some ale with him, and of course she said yes. Before long time had gone, she had somehow found herself in the middle of a drinking contest with the two Hobbits. 

Merry was now soundly asleep, and Pippin had been carried out of the hall by Gandalf some time ago. Lothíriel did not see Éomer coming towards her.

"It seems, my lady, that you forgot my ale," he said as he took a seat next to her. The Hall was nearly emptied.

She frowned at him. "Your ale, my lord? Since when did I become naught but a servant, Heir of Go… ohan?" her speech was slurred and her eyes dazed. Éomer could do no other thing than to grin at her.

"You are no servant of mine, but if you recall you were getting us some more ale when you suddenly vanished," he answered her.

She frowned again. "Oh, yes, of course…"

"So how much ale have you been drinking?" he asked her.

"Oh, not too many, I think… only…" she tried to count on her fingers, but she found herself with too few. She took up the other hand and smiled as it had more fingers, but again she did not have enough. Éomer chuckled. "I see. And how did you end up drinking so much?"

"It was those Hobbits!" Lothíriel spat. "Those ras… ras... rascg… rasgal…."

"Rascals?" Éomer asked.

"Yes! That was exact… exact… It was that!" she raised her mug to her lips, but it was taken from her before she was able to drink anything. She shot Éomer a glare. He only laughed of her.

"I think someone have had more than enough," he put the mug down and helped her stand. "Come. I will take you to a room where you can sleep."

Lothíriel frowned. "Your room? I will not sleep in your room." As her feet became heavier and she simply started dragging them after her, Éomer took her in his arms and carried her down the corridor. He opened a door.

"I told you I will not sleep in your room," She said. She spoke slowly; some of her words were unclear. "Valar knows what you would do to me then." Her eyes suddenly closed.

Éomer put her on the bed, removed her cloak and put the covers over her. He smiled as he gazed upon her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, like no cold had ever touched her. She looked so innocent and Éomer suddenly realized how young she really was. He did not know how long he was looking at her, but at last he decided to retire and went to his rooms. But not before he gave her a goodnight kiss on her lips. Although she was still asleep he would have sworn she smiled.

* * *

Sometime during the night, Pippin had looked into the palantír Gandalf had taken with him from Isengard. The Hobbit had apparently not told the enemy anything he should not, and he had seen a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Théoden had been talking to Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the two Hobbits about that, but when Gandalf had said that Rohan had to be ready, if the beacons of Gondor were lit, Théoden had responded by asking why the Rohirrim should ride to the aid of those who did not come to Rohan. He had asked what they owed Gondor. 

Éomer had not been present at the time, but he was now standing next to Gamling in Théoden's study, with the other councillors. Éomer had been present on a meeting with the king's councillors before, but he was not used to it. But if he was to be the next king of Rohan, he supposed he had to get used to it some time.

Right now he was looking at his uncle. He had just been told what had been said during the meeting with the White Wizard and his companions.

"We owe nothing to Gondor," one of the councillors said, a man in his sixties whose name was Léthed, as far as Éomer knew.

"The Steward could not know we needed help," Hadreod said. He was a man close to fifty, and he was the youngest of Théoden's councillors.

"Our relationship with Gondor goes both ways," Léthed protested. "It is not always Rohan that shall come to the aid of Gondor."

Of the seven councillors, it seemed as most held with Léthed. Only Aodred, an old man in his eighties held with Hadreod.

Councillors and long meetings made Éomer tired and weary, for not to mention he was still suffering of the effects of the ale the night before. Gamling and he were the only soldiers there. The councillors had never been to battle, and they thought words held more power than swords. Perhaps it was so, for Éomer felt as if he could just suddenly fall to sleep. He was tired of listening to the councillors. "May I speak, my lord?" Théoden nodded and Éomer continued. "If Minas Tirith falls, Rohan will be next. Then it will not matter who aided whom and who did not, for then it will be too late. Our land will be taken by the enemy. Our people and horses will be dead or taken as slaves. In the end it does not matter if we choose not to aid Gondor. But if we ride to their aid, we will defend our country as well."

It did not occur to Éomer until later how unbelievable selfish reasons he had to want to aid Gondor, in addition of saving his people and country. However his words had given Théoden something to think about.

* * *

Éomer hurried down the corridor. He found the right door and knocked on it. The only thing he heard was a groan. He smiled slightly and opened the door. Lothíriel was still in bed, the covers pulled over her face. 

"My lady, it is time to stand up," Éomer said.

"No, it's not," Lothíriel replied.

"No man in my éored has ever been beaten by something as simple as a hangover. And nor will you, only because you are a woman," Éomer said.

Lothíriel removed the covers from her face. "Fine. I shall do as my marshal commands. Have anyone ever told you that you are cruel?"

"Yes, my sister tells me so all the time," Éomer replied.

She looked around. "Where am I?"

"In one of the few guestrooms in the Golden Hall," Éomer answered. "I took you here last night. You passed out before you could put yourself to bed."

"I did?" Lothíriel asked. "I don't remember."

"That does not surprise me," Éomer said. "I have never seen a woman so drunk before as you was last night."

"Remember, Éomer, that I am not a common woman," Lothíriel said.

"That you certainly are not," Éomer said and kissed her.

* * *

"Where is Éomer?" Théoden asked as he came out of his study. 

"With the lady, I believe, my lord," the head of his household, Lady Geolice, said.

"What lady?" Théoden asked.

"One of the maids readied a room for her yesterday, my lord," Geolice answered. "I do not know who she is, but I know which room was prepared for her. Shall I find your nephew, my lord?"

"No, I will find Éomer myself," Théoden answered. "Now, which room?"

* * *

Théoden found the room and saw that the door was half open. He looked inside and saw Éomer sitting on the edge of the bed. In the bed was a woman. She was a beautiful lady, but Théoden could see at once she was not of the Rohirrim. Her hair was as black as the night, not golden. 

Lothíriel laughed at something Éomer said. "Please don't do that again. My head feels like it is going to break."

Éomer laughed. "That was your own fault, not mine."

"Somehow I believe I will prove it was your fault and not mine," Lothíriel said.

"Are you sure?" Éomer asked softly and kissed her. Théoden could hardly believe his eyes. He had never seen his nephew give such attention to a woman before. He debated whether to leave them alone or break up the moment. At last the thought of what could occur between them after he left made him enter the room.

Lothíriel's hands had travelled to Éomer's back and were now trying to pull him closer to her, when she suddenly heard footsteps. With much effort she broke the kiss. "Éomer…"

Éomer looked at her and then turned to see what she was looking at. "My lord…" he was on his feet quickly, while Lothíriel simply stayed where she was. Her face was as red as the colour of King Théoden's tunic. _Look at me! _She thought. _Here I am in the presence of the king of Rohan, and what do I do? I'm in bed with the worst hangover I have ever experienced. A good thing he does not know I am of the royal house of Dol Amroth! What would he think of my father then?_

"Éomer," Théoden looked at his nephew, "I need a word with you."

"Of course, my lord," Éomer replied, but they did not move.

"Perhaps you should introduce your lady?" Théoden suggested. He was rather amused by the whole situation, but he did not let it show.

"My lord, this is Liriel of Gondor. Liriel, this is my uncle, Théoden King," Éomer said.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lord," Lothíriel said, trying to be a polite princess without actually being a princess. She was lucky that she was a princess, for if not she probably would have difficulties to answer the king.

"You as well, Liriel of Gondor," Théoden said. "Éomer," the king motioned for Éomer to follow him. Éomer gave Lothíriel a small smiled before following his uncle out in the corridor.

"A lady from Gondor? How did she end up in Edoras?" The king asked.

"She came with my éored from Helm's Deep," Éomer said. Théoden gave him a questioning look. Éomer sighed. "She is a member of my éored, uncle. First she…"

"A woman in your éored?" Théoden asked. "And you treat her just as you treat you men?"

"I do not expect you to understand what events have lead to this, but I ask you to trust my judgement on this. She is a good warrior. But if I could keep her from fighting, I would, but then I fear I would be a head shorter," Éomer said.

"You do as you see fit with your men, of course, but a woman… a Gondorian woman…"

Éomer cut him off, "Liriel is a capable fighter. And if she is a member of my own éored or not is my decision."

Théoden studied his nephew. "She is a good friend then?"

Éomer looked at him. "Well… yes, she…"

"And these days good friends kiss?" Théoden asked with a smile. "Take care of your guest, nephew. Come to my study tonight. I want to know how a woman has managed to get the power over you to have a woman in your éored." With that he left.

Éomer looked after him. "That's not true. She doesn't have any power over me," he muttered; although even now he started to question if that was true.

* * *

Théoden was in his study, looking out of the window after his nephew had been there, talking to him and telling him about that woman. He now understood what reasons Éomer had for going to Gondor. Was it right of him to refuse to help Gondor? Was it not also true that if Gondor fell, his country would be next? Gandalf had taken the Hobbit with him to Gondor. He would fight against the Dark Lord. Was Rohan supposed to watch the outcome and not fight themselves? The Rohirrim was a nation of warriors. Would they not fight, but instead wait? It was his responsibility as their king to decide. What he decided would be important for his people. They would fight or wait.

* * *

Éomer was standing next to his sister in the Golden Hall. Lothíriel had gone to check on her horse. 

"Not yet at ease at being the heir, are you?" Éowyn asked.

"Should I be?" Éomer asked. "Our cousin was heir. This was never my task."

"I know, brother. But you love our people just like Théodred did, and as things have turned out, I would not see anyone else as the future king," Éowyn said.

Before Éomer was able to reply, the doors to the Golden Hall were opened, and Aragorn came running in.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid," Aragorn stood in front of Théoden. Éomer and Éowyn looked at each other, wondering what their uncle would decide.

Théoden thought at the conversation he had had with his nephew about Liriel, the woman from Gondor. She was the only Gondorian who had come to Rohan and fought with his people. _If we don't come to the aid of Gondor, Rohan will fall next. I cannot let my people fall if there can be done anything to prevent it. _Théoden looked at his men and Aragorn. "And Rohan will answer," he turned at Éomer. "Muster the Rohirrim."

Éomer nodded, touching his sister's shoulder, before leaving the hall.

Théoden and Éomer left the Golden Hall together.

"Assemble the army at Dunharrow. As many men as can be found. You have two days. On the third, we ride for Gondor and war," Théoden ordered and Éomer nodded.

"Éothain, assemble the éored," Éomer ordered.

Éothain nodded and left to carry out the orders.

Éomer went to where Firefoot had been readied. Lothíriel was standing next to him, making sure she had remembered everything as she readied Thalion. Éomer looked at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What? Did you think I would wait in Edoras?" Lothíriel asked. "I am coming with you."

"No, you are not," he protested.

"Please, Éomer. This discussion is starting to become old," Lothíriel said. "I will tell you what will happen if we start this. You will say that I can't come, and I will again point out that I am a member of your éored. You will give up and I will be happy and give you a smile you cannot resist and you will kiss me until we are both out of breath," she smiled sweetly at him.

Éomer shook his head. "A smile I cannot resist you say?" she nodded, still smiling. "And I'll kiss you until we are out of breath?" Again she nodded. Éomer did not waste his time with any more words, but brought his lips to hers and as promised kissed her out of breath.

They did not see the Dwarf staring at them with his mouth open. _The Marshal is kissing a man? Are there not any women for him to kiss? _Gimli could not see the face of the man Éomer was kissing because of the cloak the other was wearing. _I must ask Aragorn about this! It cannot be common for men to kiss men. It surely cannot be healthy!_

Éomer broke off the kiss. "Fine, it seems as if I have no other choice than to allow you to come to Dunharrow." Lothíriel grinned and mounted Thalion. Éomer mounted Firefoot. He looked at the men around him. "Now is the hour. Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now fulfill them all. To lord and land!"

With that they rode out of Edoras.

* * *

Thank you guys for your patience. You've been great encouragement and a reminder that I can't give up. I'm gonna finish this story, one way or another. 

**lady scribe of avandell: **What Déorl asked Halmod to do will be known later. Keep reading. Your reviews have always been of great help to me.

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **It's not too long now. I can't wait to write that chapter! It'll be fun! (for me as the writer at least.)

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **I had to spare Haldir! He was never meant to die, and I can't believe Peter Jackson killed him in the movies. I mean he didn't die in the books, and that's how it should be. So I couldn't keep to the book for then it would be too few defenders at Helm's Deep since I banished Éomer, but I could spare his life.

**Kristine: **Hi, girl, don't start crying yet! I haven't gotten to all the depressing stuff yet. But I'm glad you reviewed, although you've only gotten to chapter 3. Reviews are great, no matter what! I'll see you later, I hope. Snakkes!


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them… damn, these disclaimers get boring to write after a while…

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 11**

When they came to Dunharrow they were met by Dúnhere, chieftain of the folk of Harrowdale, and Grimbold of Westfold.

"My lord, I have with me 300 riders from Harrowdale," Dúnhere said.

"I bring 500 men from Westfold, my lord," Grimbold said, "and 300 have come from Fenmarch."

"Good," Théoden said.

"But where are the riders from the Snowbourn?" Éomer asked.

"None have come, Marshal," Grimbold replied.

The king and his heir rode side by side trough the encampment. "We need more riders than this shall we be of any good to Gondor," the king said.

"But there will come more, my lord," Éomer said. "I have sent orders to Aldburg that the riders I left there will wait for us on the Great West Road when we leave Dunharrow. Also the riders from the Folde will come ere the sun has set tonight."

Théoden nodded. "You are right. More riders will come ere we ride to Gondor."

"But if you would take my council you would remain here in the safety of Dunharrow until the war is over, lost or won," Éomer said in a low voice.

"Nay, my son, for so will I call you, speak not the soft words of Wormtongue in my old ear!" Théoden said. "Long years in the space of days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If the war is lost, what good will be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won, what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength? But we will leave this now. Tonight I will lie in the Hold of Dunharrow. One evening of peace at least is left us."

Éomer said no more, although he wished his uncle would not go to war and perhaps die. If he survived the war he needed Théoden to help him to become a worthy heir of the throne of Rohan, and in the future the king.

* * *

Lothíriel was brushing Thalion and Éomer was not far from her as he unsaddled Firefoot. Éomer took the saddle and was about to put it away when Legolas and Gimli came. 

"The horses are restless and the men are quiet," the Elf said.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Éomer said and put the saddle away.

"That road there… where does that lead?" Gimli asked. He did not really look at Éomer. The vision of the marshal and the soldier at Edoras was still in his mind.

However it was not Éomer who answered. "That is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain," Legolas said.

Lothíriel looked at the road they spoke of. She looked at Éomer again. She could not determine whether he looked concerned or perhaps frightened.

"None who venture there ever return. That mountain is evil," Éomer said. Legolas and Gimli nodded and left him with Lothíriel.

She looked at him. "The road to the Dimholt... is it the Paths of the Dead?"

Éomer looked at her, rather surprised that she had heard of it. He nodded. "So it is called. What do you know about it?"

"Only the few things I have heard," she replied. "What do you know about it?"

"What lies beyond that road no man knows, yet ancient legends, now seldom spoken, has somewhat to report. If these tales speak true that have come down from father to son in the House of Eorl, then the Door under Dwimorberg leads to a secret way that goes beneath the mountain to some forgotten end. But none have ventured in to search its secrets, since Baldor, son of Brego, passed the Door and was never seen among men again. A rash vow he spoke, as he drained the horn at that feast Brego made to hallow new-built Meduseld, and he came never to the high seat of which he was heir," Éomer told her.

Lothíriel nodded, finishing the brushing of Thalion. She had heard some of the Paths of the Dead, but not as Éomer told her, and then it had never been much. She cast a last glance at the Road to the Dimholt. She looked at Éomer again. "I know you have much to do with the king tonight, but can we not at least meet a while later. Let's saddle our horses and meet under the trees we passed on our way here, so that none may see us."

Éomer gave her a smile. "We will meet tonight then, my lady."

* * *

Éomer was seated at a fire with Éothain, Gamling, Legolas and Gimli. From a tent nearby he heard his sister's voice. "There. A true esquire of Rohan." 

"I'm ready." It was the Hobbit, Merry.

Éomer shook his head. His sister was determined to make a rider out of that Hobbit. Swords and war was for soldiers. Men that had trained a long time to become riders. It was not for small Hobbits that had lived all their lives in a distant realm, with no war to worry about.

Éowyn practically pushed Merry out of the tent. "To the smithy. Go!" she smiled as the Hobbit walked away from the tent, waving the sword around him.

"You should not encourage him," Éomer said, not looking at her.

"And you should not doubt him," his sister repliedin the same tone.

"I do not doubt his heart, only the reach of his arm." It was true. The Hobbit was brave, but he did not belong in war. What difference would he make? How many hours of sword-training did he have when he was a boy? How many hours had he spent trying to become best with his sword and spear, and with his horse? Éomer knew that Meriadoc Brandybuck was not a soldier.

"Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you," Éowynsaid, her voice cold as steel. Then she continued with a more gentle voice. "Why should he not fight for those he loves?"

Éomer looked into the fire. No, Merry was no soldier, but he had a brave heart. He wanted to fight, but it would be his death. Their discussion had not gone unnoticed by those around the fire, but Éomer choose to ignore them. He rose and went over to his sister. "Sweostor, I mean not to say he does not want to or that he lacks courage, for that he does not. But I will ask you how many hours he has spent on the training field. How much time has he used to learn how to fight? Was his days filled with sword practice and learning how to kill Orcs when he was growing up? You know yourself how it was to learn to wield a sword. He did not grow up as we did." Éomer was about to walk away.

"Éomer, wait!" Éowyn stopped him by grabbing his arm. "I meant not to sound so harsh. I know what you mean. Perhaps he was not brought up to fight as you were, but I tell you that with the courage in his heart, perhaps he does not need more. He wants to defend his people and his loved ones. Perhaps that is all that needs to make a soldier."

"It motan beon so." And then he left.

* * *

Éomer quickly saddled Firefoot and rode to the woods where he had agreed to meet Lothíriel. He couldn't see her, but her white horse was nearby. 

"You're late."

He turned around. Lothíriel was standing there, her hood thrown back and a seducing smile on her face.

"I am not; it is only you who are early," Éomer protested.

Lothíriel grinned. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not." Before he could think of a reply she had closed the space between them and kissed him.

Éomer smiled as they broke apart. "That was too long ago."

"My dear Marshal, you kissed me this morning," Lothíriel laughed.

"I know. It was too long," he muttered against her lips.

"The time we use to ride to Gondor will not be any easier," she said.

He looked at her. "You're not coming with us."

"Oh, I certainly am," Lothíriel said. "You said I could come…"

He cut her off. "I allowed you to come to Dunharrow. I did not use the words: 'of course you may come to Gondor with us and fight the Dark Lord to what will for certain be your death'. Have you lost all your senses? You are not coming."

"I can fight, I can take care of myself, and it's my decision, not yours! You don't own me, Éomer, son of Éomund! It is no less dangerous for you to ride to battle than it is for me. We have already had this discussion twice now. I am coming, and there's nothing you can do about it," she stared angrily at him.

"Why?" that was the only thing he asked.

"Why? Because Gondor is my country and I don't want to see the White City fall. I want to defend my people, just like you do." Lothíriel said. "And I don't want to be separated from you," she said in a whisper.

Éomer looked at her, gently wiping away a tear from her cheek. "Why do you cry, Liriel?" he asked gently.

"You ask a lot of stupid questions, Éomer," Lothíriel said with a small laugh, but it quickly faded. "I cry because I will die if you do not return. I cry because I cannot bear to be apart from you. If you do not return, I will die, Éomer. If we die, we will die together. That is why I must come with you," she looked him in the eyes. "I love you."

It was only a whisper, but he heard. He did not reply he simply kissed her very passionately. She responded to him and threw her arms around him, not daring to let him go. It was like the sky exploded above her head, for none of their kisses had ever been like this one.

When they parted he smiled at her. "We will not be parted," he whispered. "If we die, we die together. I love you too, Liriel."

Lothíriel smiled through her tears. "Amin mela lle."

"Ic freogan ge," he responded, before he kissed her again.

* * *

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were sitting outside Aragorn's tent near a fire. A question had been gnawing on Gimli since they left Edoras. He looked at Aragorn. _Should I ask him, or should I not? I will perhaps get an answer, but the answer may not be a good one. Or perhaps it is quite common, but perhaps not healthy. It is like smoke! Both Men, Hobbits and Dwarves and even Wizards smoke, yet it is not healthy, or so Legolas tells me. Perhaps it is the same with a man kissing another man. It is not healthy, but for them it is as good as smoke. Oh, watch your thoughts, son of Glóín! It cannot be healthy to have such thoughts. I need an answer. _Gimli turned at Aragorn. "Aragorn, I must ask you something." 

"Of course, Gimli. Ask anything you want," Aragorn replied, not knowing how much he would regret those words.

"Is… eh… is it… I mean, you are a man, so you must know this," Gimli clear his throat. "Is it common for men to kiss men?"

The water flew out of Aragorn's mouth and he stared at his friend. Legolas looked shocked at him. He had cleaned his sword, but now his hands had gone still.

"What?" Aragorn did not believe what he had heard.

"Is it common for men to kiss other men?" Gimli repeated.

"Common? For men to kiss men? Why in the name of the Valar do you ask?" Aragorn asked.

"Well, it is only because I saw something…" Gimli started.

"What did you see?" Legolas interrupted.

"I, hm… I saw, well, it was a man kissing a man. That is what I saw once," Gimli said.

"What? When?" Aragorn asked.

"It was… well,at Edoras," Gimli answered.

"Who was it?" Legolas asked. He had never heard of such a thing before and he was repulsed by it. It was simply disgusting! In his opinion, men became weirder and weirder for each day.

"I do not think I should say it," Gimli said. "The man has a good reputation, and…"

"Do we know him?" Legolas asked.

"You may say so," Gimli answered.

"Who is it?" Aragorn asked.

"Éomer!" Gimli blurted out. It was not that he was under a lot of pressure from his friends to tell them, but he simply could not manage to be the only one who knew.

Aragorn and Legolas stared at each other.

"Let me see if I understand," Legolas said carefully. "We are talking of the same man now? He is tall, blond, young, Third Marshal and heir to the throne of Rohan?" Gimli nodded. "And you saw him kiss a man?" Gimli nodded again. "You must have knocked your head or something," the Elf muttered, wondering if his friend had been dreaming to come up with such a tale.

"It is true," Gimli protested. "I saw the Marshal kiss a man. All I wondered was if it was common."

"It is not," Aragorn muttered. He would never have thought such of Éomer. Since he first met him, he had respected the younger man very much. It was simply not a thing Aragorn would have thought about the other man. He looked at his friends. "Even if it is true, it is none of our business, and I hope we can keep it this way."

* * *

Éomer was still awake when riders entered the great encampment. He stopped them before they could come anywhere near the king's tent. "Halt! Halt! Who rides in such haste in Dunharrow? What is your purpose?" 

A Man rode forth, but Éomer soon realized that it was not a Man, but an Elf. The Elf threw his hood back. "I am Elrond Halfelven, Lord of Rivendell. I seek the King of the Mark, and Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"And who rides with you, my lord? Surely you cannot expect me to give you permission to see my king, unless I know who are riding with you," Éomer said.

"With me ride Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North and thirty of his men. They are of Aragorn's own kin. With me are also my sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Will you now give me permission to see your king, soldier of Rohan?" Elrond asked.

"I will, for I believe you speak truthful and have no intention of doing the king harm," Éomer said and waited until Elrond had dismounted before he led the way.

"My lord?" Éomer asked and waited until Théoden told him to enter.

"Ah, Éomer, what brings you here at this hour?" the king asked.

"I will take my leave soon, my lord. This is Elrond of Rivendell," Éomer said.

Théoden looked at the Elf. "You may leave us, Éomer." Éomer bowed and left.

The Rangers had all dismounted and was giving their horses a rest. Éomer went over to them. "There is a stream over there if you wish to give water to your horses."

Their leader, Halbarad, smiled and nodded. "Thank you. The horses are as weary as we are."

Éomer nodded. "A long ride, I presume"

Halbarad nodded. "Indeed. I am Halbarad, Ranger of the North."

"I am Éomer, Third Marshal Riddermark," Éomer said and walked next to Halbarad as they lead their horses to the stream that came down from the mountain. "You havefine horses."

"We have, but I am sure the legendary horses of Rohan are no less than our own. It is said that the Rohirrim has the finest horses in all Middle-earth," Halbarad said and for as long as it took Elrond to talk to Aragorn, they discussed horses.

* * *

That night Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, the sons of Elrond, Halbarad and the Rangers left for the Paths of the Dead. 

That morning Théoden said to Éomer: "Call the heralds, Éomer. Let the Riders be marshalled!"

Éomer nodded and went out, and presently the trumpets rang in the Hold and were answered by many others from below.

The King of the Mark mounted his proud horse, Snowmane, and readied to lead all his Riders on the eastward road. Hearts were heavy and many quailed in the shadow. But they were a stern people, loyal to their lord, and little weeping or murmuring was heard, even in the camp in the Hold where the women and children and old men from Edoras were housed, so that they would not be totally unprotected in Edoras. Doom hung over them, but they faced it silently.

On the wide flats beside the river were marshalled in many companies well nigh five and fifty hundreds of Riders fully armed, and many hundreds of other men with spare horses lightly burdened. A single trumpet sounded.

Then king raised his hand, and then silently the host of the Mark began to move. Foremost went twelve of the king's household-men, Riders of renown. Then the king followed with Éomer on his right. Behind them came first the men of Théoden's own éored and then came Éomer's éored. The other riders followed behind.

* * *

"From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning  
with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:  
to Edoras he came, the ancient halls  
of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;  
golden timbers were in gloom mantled.  
Farewell he bade to his free people,  
hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,  
where long he had feasted ere the light faded.  
Forth rode the king, fear behind him,  
fate before him. Fealty kept he,  
oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.  
Forth rode Théoden. Five nights and days  
east and onward rode the Eorlingas  
through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,  
six thousand spears to Sunlending.  
Mundberg the mighty under Mindolluin,  
Sea-kings' city in the South-kingdom  
Foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.  
Doom drove them on. Darkness took them,  
horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar  
sank into silence: so the songs tell us."

* * *

**Translations:**

It motan bean so – It may be so  
Amin mela lle – I love you  
Ic freogan ge – I love you

**Author's note: **You probably know already that this song is taken from the books. I wanted to include the Rangers into this and the sons of Elrond, since they actually went with Aragorn on the Paths of the Dead. This was the only way I managed to accomplish that. Hope it worked. Dúnhere is an actual character from the books, so I don't own him.

**Replies:**

**lady scribe of avandell: **I loved writing that part about Gimli. Sounds like people liked reading it too. Again that breech/break thing was something I should have noticed. I'm afraid I'm too lazy to use my dictionary. I'm trying to change that. Hope this update is soon enough! I would have updated sooner, but school is taking a lot of my time. My holiday starts in fourteen days! Hurray!

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **Well, none of the Rohirrim have actually been to Dol Amroth and seen the princess. Aragorn spend time in Gondor before she was born, and then he was not much in Dol Amroth anyway. Legolas and Gimli probably didn't travel so much in Gondor before the war, so it is not unlikely that no one recognize her.

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **I love how Gimli saw them too. It was so funny to write. Thanks for all your encouragement!

**EruntaleofRohan: **It seems like everyone liked the thing about Gimli. It was funny to write it too. Thanks for your encouragement and keep reviewing, then I'll keep writing.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **The same old thing. When I own them I will let you know.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 12**

Lord Talon was enjoying how things had turned out for him. Not long ago, Prince Imrahil and his sons had gone to the White City with their knights, and the city of Dol Amroth was left to Imrahil's steward, Lord Alheon. While Princess Mariel played the role of Princess of Dol Amroth, she would not rule in Imrahil's absence, as she was only his daughter-in-law. Had Princess Irinya lived, she would have ruled the city when the prince was gone, but this task was now on the shoulders of Lord Alheon. When Elphir would one day succeed his father, Mariel would rule the city in his absence, but now she only worked closely with Alheon, and learned from him, and mostly the decisions were taken together. Had he wished it, Alheon could have ruled Dol Amroth without letting Mariel know anything about the decisions made, but Alheon was a close friend of the royal family, and he was not greedy or after the power that came with the position he had. He knew perfectly well that the young woman once in the future perhaps would have to rule the city for some time, and he wanted her to learn what she could.

Talon had been working very hard to convince everyone he was a friend and not a foe. Imrahil had not been hard. After all, their "friendship" had started before the Princess' disappearance, and Imrahil had apologised to Talon about his daughter's behaviour. The two youngest princes had been easy when Talon had first known what to do. Their open hatred for him after their sister ran away had made it easy for him to make a plan how to get them to understand he had not driven Lothíriel away. Erchirion had openly told him that Lothíriel was far too young for marriage, and that she instead should have lived her life in peace in Dol Amroth. This lead Talon to believe he did not want his sister married to anyone, so he had pushed the right buttons with the young prince, and had made him believe that when she returned, Lothíriel would have all the freedom she desired when they married. This had reassured Erchirion some, and in time Talon had managed to convince him that he was a better and more proper husband for Lothíriel than anyone else in Middle-earth, so Erchirion had started to accept that.

Amrothos had stated that his beloved sister ran away because the choice to choose her own husband had been taken away from her. But Talon had also managed to convince Amrothos that he was a better husband for Lothíriel than anyone else. Amrothos had also started being friendlier to Lord Talon, and had at last accepted that he would wed his sister, if she returned.

Prince Elphir had been the most difficult one of the princes, since Elphir was really a man of actions, and not words. He knew politics, he knew what would be required of him later in life when he would rule Dol Amroth, but that did not mean he had to like all the politics. He was a soldier, the heir of Prince Imrahil, yes, but he was a soldier who had defended his city from their enemies with the help of swords, not words. Later, when they met, it would strike Imrahil how much alike his son was the heir to the throne of Rohan, although Elphir had a lesser temper than Éomer of Rohan.

Talon knew talking would not help with Elphir, and Elphir had never expressed his feelings to Talon about his sister and her disappearance. So Talon would, for once, have to rely on action in stead of words. He had always been good at fooling people with his words. He often charmed people into trusting him, choosing his words carefully to have the result of the conversation to his benefit. He tried with the prince, but it did not work. It was only fortunate that he had overheard a conversation the prince had with his wife. Talon had heard him say that his sister should have been allowed to choose a husband, not have one chosen for her. He also said he would never allow her to marry a man such as Talon.

Elphir's exact words to his wife were: _"I am happy she ran away instead of being forced to marry a man like him! I am sure he has never even held a sword! My sister would probably beat him if she would ever fight him. All the time Lothíriel has used on the training field, he probably used inside his home, making plans for how to be wed into one of Gondor's royal houses."_

It annoyed Talon that Elphir had so accurately guessed what he had done with his time over the years. After he had become aware of the fact that Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth had a young daughter, he had waited for years for her to reach the age when she could be married. But when the girl was about 18, he heard rumours that her father had no intentions of forcing his daughter into a marriage she did not wish. So he used over a year thinking of a way to successfully have the princess to marry him. To win her heart, he knew, would fail before he had even started. He had been wondering about this when he heard about the death of Prince Imrahil's wife, and a plan had started to take form. So it had been three months later that he successfully had been promised the hand of the princess.

To win Elphir's trust, was something Talon was still working on. But he had started to build up his relationship with the Prince before he left for Minas Tirith. Mariel had taken Alphros to the docks, but there they had been attacked by a man who wanted money. How fortunate that Lord Talon had been nearby with his sword, ready to save the Princess and her son. Of course Prince Elphir had been very grateful and he was beginning to think that perhaps Lord Talon wasn't how he seemed. The goal was to get Elphir to believe Talon wasn't such a bad choice for his sister after all, but Talon had not reached it yet. But by saving the Prince's wife and son, he had made a good start.

_If they only knew the man who attacked Princess Mariel and her son is one of my most trusted men! _Talon thought with a smile.

Lord Alheon had watched Lord Talon suspiciously since his arrival. There was something strange about the young lord from Lebinnin. Something Alheon could not point out, yet he knew it to be true. But he could not accuse Lord Talon for something without any proof. And what could he accuse him for? Being the betrothed of Princess Lothíriel? That was hardly a cause to throw someone in the dungeons.

It was his daughter, Lady Valinea, Princess Lothíriel's best friend, who had first pointed out to him that there was something strange about the man. She also said it was no wonder Liriel had ran away, if she was forced to wed that man. He had asked her how she knew he was unsuited for the Princess to marry. She had looked at him and smiled. _"Sometimes a woman knows these things, Ada. And I am telling you, he is not a man suited for Liriel to marry."_

Arranged marriages were quite common amongst nobility in Gondor. Alheon knew Prince Elphir had been lucky to have wed a woman he loved, not one his father had found for him. He had always known that Imrahil would eventually arrange the marriages of his children, if they were not as lucky as Elphir and find love on their own. It had not come as a surprise for him that the Prince had arranged the marriage of his daughter; the only surprise had been how quick it happened. The same day Lord Talon had arrived Prince Imrahil had told his trusted friend and steward that he would have his daughter wed the young man. Alheon had said nothing, but he found it quite strange. Erchirion and Amrothos were older than Lothíriel, and both unwed, and yet Imrahil arranged her marriage before theirs. Of course the explanation could be simple. It could be that Imrahil wanted to find a man who could take care of his daughter, should things go bad with Imrahil and his sons in the war. Yet it was unlikely that Imrahil would simply arrange Lothíriel's marriage, without as much as even talk to her about it first.

It was not much Alheon could do. Lord Talon had done nothing wrong, the Princess had run away and the Prince and his sons had gone to war. The only thing Alheon could do was to keep an eye on Lord Talon.

* * *

Théoden had ordered them to stop in the Grey Wood, and had sent scouts ahead. They had been led to the Grey Wood by Ghân-buri-Ghân and the Wild Men. They had agreed to help Théoden, and all they wanted in return was for the Rohirrim to kill Orcs and drive them away. These Wild Men were not as those Saruman had ordered to attack the settlements in Westfold, although they were probably related. The Wild Men who Ghân-buri-Ghân was the leader of had no love for Orcs or Saruman any more than the Rohirrim, though it cannot be said the Wild Men had any great love for the Rohirrim either. Ghân-buri-Ghân had chosen to help King Théoden. 

The King had now summoned the captains to council.

"We need no further guidance from the Wild Men," Elfhelm said. "There are riders in the host who have ridden down to Mundburg in days of peace. I for one. When we come to the road it will veer south, and there will lie before us still seven leagues ere we reach the wall of the townlands. Along most of that way there is much grass on either side of the road. We may ride it swiftly and without great rumour."

"Then since we must look for fell deeds and the need of all our strength," Éomer said. "I council that we rest now, and set out hence by night, and so time our going that we come upon the fields when tomorrow is as light as it will be, or when our lord gives the signal."

To this Théoden assented, and the captains departed. Éomer remained.

"I fear we will be too late to come to Denethor's aid," Théoden told his nephew. "Many days has passed since the beacons were lit, and Minas Tirith may already be fallen."

"Were the city fallen, Orcs would be making their way to Rohan now, and we would be in battle this very moment. No, I believe the White City still stands, my lord, though the battle is already begun, I think," Éomer said. "_Need brooks no delay, yet late is better than never. _And mayhap in this time shall the old saw be proved truer than ever before since men spoke with mouth."

Then Théoden smiled at the younger man. "I am so proud of you, Éomer. One day, if the Valar will it so, I know you will be a good king for our people. After Théodred's death, no other man would be worthy of his title, and I would give it to no other man except you."

"Thank you, uncle." Éomer did not know what else to say. It was good to know that his uncle had so much faith in him, though he was less certain he would be a good king, when and if that time came. He decided now was a good time to look after the scouts and see what they had to report.

* * *

Not long after, Éomer rode into the camp again to find Théoden. "The scouts report Minas Tirith is surrounded. There are great fires. The City is all set about with flame, and the field is full of foes. As far as they could tell, there are few left upon the out-wall, and they are heedless, busy in destruction." 

"Now is the hour come," Gamling, who was standing next to the king, said.

Théoden agreed and he spoke to Éomer. "Éomer, my son! You lead the first éored, and it shall go behind the king's banner in the centre." Théoden turned to the other captains that had come to them, and were standing next to Éomer, who was still mounted on Firefoot. "Elfhelm, lead your company to the right when we pass the wall. And Grimbold shall lead his towards the left. Let the other companies follow these three that lead, as they have chance. Strike wherever the enemy gathers. Other plans we cannot make, for we know not yet how things stand upon the field. Forth now, and fear no darkness!"

The leading company rode off as swiftly as they could. When Éomer passed Liriel, where she was already mounted on Thalion, he motioned for her to ride next to him.

* * *

They came to halt once they came on the hill and looked upon the forces of Mordor. A smell of burning was in the air and a very shadow of death. The horses were uneasy. But the king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. 

Lothíriel felt a great weight of horror and doubt. The City was in flames! How long would her own city stand, if the White City would fall? How long would it be before Mordor attacked Dol Amroth and the other great cities of Gondor? How long would it be before the Dark Lord turned his eye north, to Rohan? Her heart was heavy of fear not for herself, but for her people, and for Éomer's people.

Then suddenly there was a change. Wind was in their faces! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

But at the same moment there was a flash, as if lightening had sprung from the earth beneath the City. For a searing second it stood dazzling far off in black and white, its topmost tower like a glittering needle; and then as the darkness closed again there came rolling over the fields a great boom.

At that sound the king sat again tall and proud, and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!  
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!  
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,  
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!  
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

With that he seized a great horn from Guthláf his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder. And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.

The host of Mordor for a moment stopped what they were doing and looked at the Rohirrim. The Commander of the Orcs had them ready for battle, but it was not without fear the Orcs from Mordor waited for the Rohirrim to attack, for they knew the riders would do just that.

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

"Ride to Gondor!" the Rohirrim cried in one voice and raised their swords.

The king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away. Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it. After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them. Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helmet floating in his speed. At his side rode Lothíriel, sword in hand and ready to defend her country.

The front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in battle of the Valar when the world was young.

Morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and the darkness was removed and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them.

And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

* * *

The Rohirrim was upon the Orcs like a great wave that was washing away the filth of Mordor. The Orcs had little chance against the Riders of Rohan, but the battle was not yet lost. 

It was not long before all the northern half of the Pelennor was overrun; Orcs were flying towards the River like herds before the hunters.

Éomer raised his sword Gúthwinë in defence of both Rohan and Gondor on the fields of Pelennor. The steel was dark with Orc-blood, for many enemies had he slain, and the battle had not lasted long for the Rohirrim.

Lothíriel was not far from Éomer, but suddenly she found herself surrounded by Orcs. She did not hesitate to defend herself, although she knew she would have trouble defending herself against so many. Éomer had not seen that she had been cut off from him and the other Rohirrim, but one other had.

Lothíriel had no problem with the Orcs before her, but her problem was those behind her. She had no way of seeing them, and she was hard pressed on each side, so she could not turn her horse to fight those who attacked from behind. Amidst all the fighting she did not notice the attackers before it was too late. Some Orcs had attacked Thalion from behind, and the horse threw her. Lothíriel clutched her sword. If she lost it, it would be her death. She still had her sword, and for the moment she was still alive, but she was on her back and she was attacked by more Orcs than she could handle. She managed to kill one, but was barely able to keep the others away. It was when she heard someone cry out in Rohirric.

"Gefaran, earh nietens!"

Suddenly she had the room she needed to get to her feet, and she was again able to defend herself, even better now than when she was still mounted, since she now had no problem turning around to fight those behind her. The Rohirrim coming to her aid was still at horse, but she recognized him immediately. Halmod!

However during the battle was no time to think about Halmod coming to her rescue. She had to fight, and fight she did. She managed to get herself away from all the Orcs, killing them who were in the way. She looked around for Thalion, but he was nowhere to be seen. A great brown horse was near, and his saddle empty. Lothíriel managed to fight her way over to the horse, and mount. She then turned her way slightly to see Éomer ride away in a great haste. The knights of the household that still lived rode after him, but whatever had caught Éomer's attention had him ride in such haste, she knew none of the riders would be able to catch up with him.

Lothíriel spurred the horse round and galloped in their direction. She saw Éomer leap from the saddle and stop. He stood there still, looking down at whatever lay there. As Lothíriel came up to where the riders were, she stopped next to Éothain. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw who Éomer was staring down at.

Éomer could only look at the still form of his uncle. He could not speak, for he had no words, and no sound would come. Grief and dismay had fallen upon him, and he did not know what to do. The man, who was as dear to him as a father, was dead. The man who had thought him so much, whom he still needed to teach him so many things, was gone.

Gamling, whom also had seen Éomer ride in such haste, had also come. He dismounted and took the king's banner from the hand of Guthláf, the banner-bearer who lay dead, and lifted it up.

Slowly Théoden opened his eyes. Seeing the banner he made a sign that it should be given to Éomer. Gamling did so without hesitation, but he cast a sorrowful glance at the king. He respectfully stepped back.

"Hail, King of the Mark!" Théoden said. "Ride now to victory! Bid Éowyn farewell." And so he died.

Lothíriel felt tears stream down her face, and when she glanced at Éothain and the men around them, she could not see anyone who did not weep. The men then cried: "Théoden King! Théoden King!"

Lothíriel cried for the fallen king, a man she admired and respected. Her heart wept for the man she loved. She wished to go to him, but she could not trust her feet to carry her there.

The men cried, but Éomer said to them:

"Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,  
meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,  
women then shall weep. War now calls us!"

Yet he himself wept as he spoke. "Restan in freod, eam," he said softly, and no one heard him. He spoke louder then for the men to hear. "Let his knights remain here, and bear his body in honour from the field, lest the battle ride over it! Yea, and all these other of the king's men that lie here." And he looked at the slain, recalling their names.

When he first saw her, he could not believe it. It was not possible! Yet the figure was too small to be a rider, too slender to be a man. He knew what he saw. He knew her. Éomer knew it was his sister he saw. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white, and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. He let out a cry that broke the heart of every man there. He ran to where her still form lay, dropping his helmet and sword on the ground, and dropped himself on his knees next to her, cradling her to him, crying out "no", not believing it was the dead body of his sister he was holding.

Lothíriel cried even harder. She could not move. Only to watch him in so much grief pained her. Beside her, Éothain had taken off his helmet and was holding his hands before his eyes, trying to stop crying. Those who watched their young king was crying, for they knew that she was the last of his family, and Éowyn had been deeply loved by the people.

"Éowyn! Éowyn!" Éomer cried. "Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!"

He gently laid her down and gently kissed her brow one last time, before he rose, turned and grabbed his helmet and sword, and mounted Firefoot. Then without taking counsel or waiting for the approach of the men of the City, he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"

And with that the host began to move. But the Rohirrim sang no more. _Death _they cried with one voice loud and terrible, and gathering speed like a great tide their battle swept about their fallen king and passed, roaring after southwards.

It was like Éomer's mood had passed to his riders, for all, even Lothíriel, was full of fury and rage, and just wanted to kill.

And now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor and the din of arms rose upon high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses. Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the mûmakil were bellowing as they were goaded to war. Under the south walls of the City the footmen of Gondor now drove against the legions of Morgul that were still gathering their strength. But the horsemen rode eastward to the succour of Éomer: Húrin the Tall, Warden of the Keys, and the Lord of Lossarnach, and Hirluin of the Green Hills, and Prince Imrahil the fair with his knights all about him.

The múmakil and the Haradrim seemed determined to see the Rohirrim crushed under the great beasts. Many died under the great animals. However Éomer refused to run from them. As far as he was concerned, it did not matter whether he lived or died. All that counted was how many of the enemy he managed to get rid off.

Éomer threw his spear in the chest of the man guiding the great beast, and the man fell, still holding the reins and the beast seemed to be dragged down by the weight of the man, and the beast walked right into another, and they both fell over.

A great victory it should be, as no one else had managed to kill one of the mûmakil, however the new king felt nothing over this.

But more of the great beasts came, and the horses would not go near them.

The horsemen from the City now came, and not too soon came their aid to the Rohirrim; for fortune had turned against Éomer, and his fury had betrayed him. The great wrath of his onset had utterly overthrown the front of his enemies, and great wedges of his Riders had passed clear through the ranks of Southrons, discomfiting their horsemen and riding their footmen to ruin. The mûmakil were many and difficult to kill.

And if the Rohirrim at their onset were thrice outnumbered by the Haradrim alone, soon their case became worse; for new strength came now streaming to the field out of Osgiliath. There they had been mustered for the sack of the City and the rape of Gondor, waiting on the call of their Captain. He now was destroyed; but Gothmog the lieutenant of Morgul had flung them into the fray. Some hastened behind the Rohirrim, others held westward to hold off the forces of Gondor and prevent their joining with Rohan.

And it seemed to only become worse. Men shouted: "The Corsairs of Umbar! The Corsairs of Umbar! Look! The Corsairs of Umbar are coming! So Belfalas is taken, and the Ethir, and Lebinnin is gone. The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!"

Some without order ran to the bells and tolled the alarm; and some blew the trumpets sounding the retreat.

The Rohirrim indeed had no need of news or alarm. All too well they could see for themselves the black sails. For Éomer was now scarcely a mile from the Harlond, and a great press of his first foes was between him and the haven there, while new foes came swirling behind, cutting him off from the Prince. Now he looked to the River, and hope died in his heart, and the wind that sped the ships he called accursed. But the hosts of Mordor were enheartened, and filled with a new lust and fury they came yelling to the onset.

Stern now was Éomer's mood, and his mind clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight there on foot till all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark. So he rode to a green hillock and there set his banner, and the White Horse ran rippling in the wind.

Éomer turned slightly and his eyes found Lothíriel's. She looked at him with such strength and determination that this was what they should do. She knew the words she had spoken to him at Dunharrow were now about to be true. _If we die, we will die together. _He also knew it. He loved her. He loved her, and now they both were about to die. Éomer's thoughts were that all the people he loved would be dead after this battle. His uncle, his sister, and the woman he loved. They would all die. Lothíriel was grateful she had come, for whether she was here or had remained in Rohan; she knew she would die this day if Éomer fell. At least they were together, and that was a comfort.

She made no sound when she silently told him she loved him. He smiled sadly and told her he loved her too.

Éomer turned away from her, looking at the River and the ships that were now not far away.

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising  
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.  
To hope's ending I rode and to heart's breaking:  
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall"

These staves he spoke, yet he laughed as he said them. For once more lust of battle was on him; and he was still unscathed, and he was young, and he was king: the lord of a fell people. Even as he laughed at despair he looked out again on the black ships, and lifted up his sword to defy them.

And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. Lothíriel and the men now saw what he saw. Off the ships came not another foe to worry about, but thirty Rangers of the North, the sons of Elrond, the Elf Legolas and Dwarf Gimli, and behind them the Army of the Dead, but before them all came Aragorn son of Arathorn, and thus it was that the tide of the battle turned.

East rode the knights of Dol Amroth driving the enemy before them. South rode Éomer and men fled before his face, and they were caught between the hammer and the anvil. For now the Army of the Dead came from the River, with the Rangers and men of Lebinnin and Lamedon and the fiefs of the South.

Lothíriel did not know, but in the heat of battle she met Gothmog, the lieutenant of Morgul, and she detached his head from his body.

The hosts of Mordor were defeated, but the war was not yet won, and much grief and pain were yet to be found after the battle on the fields of Pelennor.

* * *

**Translations:**

Gefaran, earh nietens! – Die, cowardly beasts!  
Restan in freod, eam – Rest in peace, uncle

**Replies:**

**lady scribe of avandell: **Ah, thank you so much! I was really hoping this book/movie thing worked, and apparently it did! And wishing to have me with pj when he was writing the script is like one of the biggest compliments anyone can get! I feel like I'm flying! Ah… Thank you!

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **Have no fear! There will be more about Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas and the whole thing about kissing a man, though it will be a while. Can't exactly have Gimli asking Éomer about _that _when he's such a mess about his uncle and sister, now can we? Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **She did kill the good lieutenant of Morgul, and she killed very many Orcs, so I hope it was action enough. If it wasn't, I promise there'll be more fighting for Lothíriel later.

**GypsySwordGodess: **Oh, yes, we all wish to be Liriel. At least until I write something very depressive… ups, did I say too much? And it's good to know that you like the story. It feels great to know that I'm appreciated for my work. And as for keep rocking to Nightwish… well, I'm the biggest Nightwish fan in the world, so nothing would keep me from doing that!

**skinnyrita: **Well, I think it's more point for me learning English than for you learning Norwegian. After all, Norwegian is a language only spoken by us people up in this small country while English is used in most of the world. Who's plotting to take over Gondor? Hm… well, I suppose you'll just have to wait and see. For a good while, I'm afraid, but I will get there eventually. Thank you for reviewing!

**Jen: **Hahahahaha! You really shouldn't have been drinking when you read that! But I suppose you'll learn after this, won't you? Um… maybe I should start posting warnings… "Please don't drink anything during this chapter. Danger of having your drink coming out through your nose." Do you think that would help? Maybe I should start doing that. Thanks for the review!

Many wanted me to update soon, but I'm afraid my mind was not working with my wishes. I suddenly found myself with no ideas as to how to continue from the last chapter to this. Thank God for Tolkien and the very large book I have in my room! And thank God it's on English!

Well, I'll just wish you a still Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **Is it any use writing these? You all know I don't own them… sadly. Hmph…

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 13**

He felt numb. The battle was over, and all he could feel was anger and frustration. Not happiness for being alive or relief because the battle was finally over. He did not feel any pain, though he had received several minor wounds during the battle. He had not even spoken to Liriel after the battle, but he had assured himself that she was unhurt. He was happy she was all right, for that allowed him not to think about her for the moment. Even though he loved her, he could not help how he felt after finding his sister on the battlefield. It was the empty feeling her presence had left. He could never hold her again, never speak or joke with her again. He could never comfort or protect her again. He almost laughed at himself. _You failed miserably to protect her, Éomer! Your sister is dead because you failed to protect her! It is my fault! _His mind screamed. _I should have seen it! I should have known she would come with us! I should have made her promise me that she would stay at Dunharrow!_

His sister was dead and it was his fault. He had promised their mother to protect her. On her deathbed he had promised he would take care of his little sister and protect her. He had failed Éowyn for not being there for her and prevent her from riding with them. He had failed his mother for not protecting his sister. He had failed his father, Théodred and King Théoden for not protecting his family and for being an unworthy heir to the throne of Rohan.

He had not yet failed Liriel. But if he could not protect his own family, how could he protect her? He knew he did not even deserve her. And he failed Éowyn so badly that he would not risk failing her. He could not. He loved her too much.

The sight of the dead Orcs he had left behind was of no comfort to Éomer either. When he cried out _death _in the midst of the battle, he had really expected to die. He had wanted to die then. Now he did not know. He knew he wanted to cry out to the Valar and curse them for taking his sister away, but he could not find the strength to do so. Slowly he made his way towards the City.

Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his sons were on a search to find the king of Rohan. Imrahil wanted to thank him for the aid of the Rohirrim. A single rider rode towards them. He was a young man, but Imrahil found it difficult to determine his age. He could be as old as Elphir or as young as Amrothos. "I seek Éomer King of Rohan," Imrahil said. "I was told I could find him here."

"And found him, you have," his voice sounded normal, but he was wary and tired. "I am Éomer. Now who are you and why do you seek me?"

"I am Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, and this is my sons. We have come to thank you for your aid," Imrahil said and Éomer nodded. "If you wish, my lord, it would be my honour to escort you into the City."

"I thank you, Lord Imrahil," Éomer said.

Aragorn rode over to them. "It is good to see you again, my friend," he said to Éomer.

"And you as well," Éomer said.

Lothíriel did not dare to breathe. She had seen her father and her brothers, and she was afraid they would see her if they looked her way. She was with the rest of the éored. She was pleased to know that Galrim, Helmling and Halmod had survived the battle, as had Éothain. She had wanted to go over to Éomer, but she wanted to give him some time as well. And now he was with her father and brothers, and she could not allow herself to be caught. Not in a Rohirric armour, and not on the battlefield. She was unsure if she wanted to let them know she was there at all, even though she missed them a great deal. She was happy they had survived the battle, but at least for now she could not allow them to see her.

On their way to the City they met Éothain. Imrahil's sons had ridden ahead to the City.

"I want to know how many men and horses we have lost, and the wounded must be taken care of. I will return as soon as I can. Ic sculan don reccan of hwa," Éomer told him.

Éothain nodded. "Ic cunnan, Éomer. I will take care of it, min Cyning," he bowed his head respectfully before he left them.

Aragorn stared at Éomer. "I am sorry, Éomer," he said quietly. "Your uncle was a great man."

"Théoden was a warrior and his death was a good one," Éomer said. "It was one I once feared would not be his."

Aragorn nodded in understanding. Aragorn did not come with Éomer and Imrahil into the City. He was not sure how the Steward would greet him, and although he was the heir of Isildur, to become the king of Gondor was still a frightening thought.

Éomer of Rohan and Imrahil of Dol Amroth continued into the White City alone. They came to the Hall of the Tower, seeking the Steward. But they found his chair empty, and before the dais lay Théoden King of the Mark upon a bed of state; and twelve torches stood about it, and twelve guards, knights both of Rohan and Gondor. And the hangings of the bed were of green and white, but upon the king was laid the great cloth of gold up to his breast, and upon that his unsheathed sword, and at his feet his shield. His face was fair and young, save that a peace lay on it beyond the reach of youth; and it seemed that he slept.

Imrahil stood back as the young king bowed before his uncle. Éomer remained on his knees for a while. Many thoughts entered his mind all at once. _I am sorry I have failed you, uncle. _Éomer thought._ I should have protected her. I promise I will try to be a good king for our people, but I wish I still had you to help me. I will try not to fail you more than I have. _"Faran binnan freod to se dryhtsele of our fæders," he said in a low voice before he raised and turned at Imrahil again.

Imrahil had not wanted to disturb the young king, so he had stood quietly behind, not saying a word. He bowed in respect to the fallen king. He now spoke to one of the Gondorian guards. "Where is the Steward? And where also is Mithrandir?"

"The Steward of Gondor is in the Houses of Healing," the guard answered.

"Where is the Lady Éowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honour? Where have they bestowed her?" Éomer could not keep the bitterness from his voice. Where had they put her? Was she not important enough to be laid in honour next to her uncle? If they had laid her in some dark room with the dead bodies of other men, he was sure he would break something.

But Imrahil turned surprised at him. "But the Lady Éowyn was yet living when they bore her hither. Did you not know?"

It was first like the words had not reached him. Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Éomer's heart, and with it the bite to care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him. Before the doors of the Houses of Healing, came Gandalf on foot and with him one cloaked in grey.

"We seek the Steward, and men say that he is in this House. Has any hurt befallen him?" Imrahil asked.

"And the Lady Éowyn, where is she?" Éomer asked.

"She lies within and is not yet dead, but is near death," Gandalf answered. "But the Lord Faramir was wounded by an evil dart, as you have heard, and he is now the Steward; for Denethor has departed, and his house is in ashes."

"So victory is shorn of gladness, and it is bitter bought, if both Gondor and Rohan are in one day bereft of their lords," Imrahil said. "Éomer rules the Rohirrim. Who shall rule the City meanwhile? Shall we not send now for the Lord Aragorn? For is it as I understand, he is the heir of Isildur and rightly lord of the City."

And the cloaked man spoke and said: "He is come." And they saw as he stepped into the light of the lantern by the door that it was Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lórien. "I have come because Gandalf begs me to do so," he said. "But for the present I am but the Captain of the Dúnedain of Arnor; and the Lord of Dol Amroth shall rule the City until Faramir awakes. But it is my counsel that Gandalf shall rule us all in the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy." And to this the others agreed upon.

"Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. Let us enter!" Gandalf said. "For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spoke Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: _The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known._"

* * *

When Éomer saw his sister he hurried to her side, and he took her hand in his and looked upon her face. He did not speak, for he could not find any words. She was so beautiful, but her face was paler than the white snow in the Ered Nimrais. Her hand was cold, and a cold fear settled in Éomer's heart; the fear that he may yet lose her. 

He did not hear her before he felt her hand gently on his shoulder. Lothíriel had made sure that her father and her brothers were not there, before she had approached Éomer. She quietly sat next to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm. She had changed from her armour to her shirt and trousers, and of course her blue cloak, but the hood was down and her black hair fell in waves down her shoulders. She started singing softly:

"With a sigh  
You turn away  
With a deepening heart  
No more words to say  
You will find  
That the world has changed  
Forever

And the trees are now  
Turning from green to gold  
And the sun is now fading  
I wish I could hold you  
Closer"

Her voice faded away. Éomer was still staring at the pale face of his sister, but he gave Lothíriel a small grateful smile.

"She will be fine. She will come through this. You have to believe she will, Éomer," Lothíriel said. "She is strong and she will make it. Amdir, meleth nín."

Éomer did not answer, and they sat in silence for a while. Lothíriel decided she had to hurry out of the Houses so that the danger of her father or brothers finding her would lessen. "I must go, Éomer. I will speak with you later."

When she was about to walk through the door, she stared into the face of her father.

"Lothíriel? Is it you, my daughter?" Imrahil could not believe his own eyes. He was sure his mind was playing with him.

"Ada…" Lothíriel muttered.

Hearing Liriel speak, Éomer turned and looked at them. _Lothíriel? Daughter? _Was Liriel Imrahil's daughter? And why did he call her Lothíriel?

"By the Valar, Lothíriel, I never thought I would see you again," Imrahil embraced her and kissed her brow. Lothíriel was not surprised to see her father, since she knew he was in the City, but she was robbed of all speech, for she did not know what to say to him or how to explain herself. And then another thought entered her mind. _Éomer!_

"Where have you been, Lothíriel?" Imrahil asked. "I haven't seen you for months! But everything will be fine, daughter. We will all go home and everything will be as it was. Your betrothed is anxious to…"

"Talon is in Dol Amroth!" It was not a question. She shouted it so loud that the Lady Ioreth had them lower their voices.

Éomer looked at his sister again. Liriel, the woman he loved, had lied to him, he thought bitterly. Her name wasn't even Liriel and she was a princess! _She is even betrothed!_ Éomer could not look her way. After the word _betrothed_ had been used, he had been too shocked to hear anything else. She had lied to him.

Lothíriel looked at Éomer. She knew he had heard. He thought she had lied to him. But she hadn't exactly lied to him. She just didn't tell him everything. It was a difference, wasn't it? What did he think of her now? Did she feel like she had betrayed him? She didn't even hear her father speaking to her as she was watching Éomer's back. Her father didn't notice. Suddenly she felt herself being pulled over to where Éomer was sitting next to his sister.

"Éomer, Lord Aragorn will come in a short while, and he will help your sister," Imrahil said. Éomer nodded, not looking at them. "Come, Lothíriel. I will help you to find somewhere you can rest. You must be exhausted."

Lothíriel simply let her father lead her where he wanted. All she could think about was the expression on Éomer's face. Betrayal, anger and several other emotions had flickered across his face. And she had caused him to feel this way.

* * *

Lothíriel… had she not trusted him enough to tell him the truth? Éomer was wary and tired. He wanted his sister back. Oh, how he wished he could just turn back time! He would have refused both Éowyn and Liriel to ride with them! Éomer felt that he had no longer control over the situation. He knew he no longer had any control over it. He could not will his sister to open her eyes, or decide that his uncle had not died. He could not make Lothíriel simply Liriel again. It was not that she was a princess that bothered him. It was that she had not told him and it was that she was betrothed. 

Suddenly Aragorn was at Éowyn's side. He said something Éomer did not hear. When he finally managed to listen, he only heard Aragorn ask him a question: "Her malady begins far back before this day, does it not, Éomer?"

"Care and dread she had, and shared with me, in the days of Wormtongue and the king's bewitchment; and she tended the king in growing fear. Many other fears we shared, yet I knew not that Éowyn was touched by any frost, until she first looked on you. But that did not bring her to this pass!" Éomer said, yet he looked not at Aragorn as he spoke, but at his dear sister.

"My friend, you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on," Gandalf said.

Éomer was silent then, for he well knew the courage of his sister and her desire to fight. It had often been the reason for many disagreements, but never had Éomer believed she would make truth of riding into battle. But she had, and as much as he loved her and knew her, he had not foreseen it.

"I saw also what you saw, Éomer," Aragorn said. "Few other griefs amid the ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man's heart than to behold the love of a lady so fair and brave that cannot be returned. Sorrow and pity have followed me ever since I left her desperate in Dunharrow and rode to the Paths of the Dead; and no fear upon that way was so present as the fear for what might befall her. And yet, Éomer, I say to you that she loves you more truly than me; for you she loves and knows; but in me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan," Aragorn sighed. "I have, maybe, the power to heal her body, and to recall her from the dark valley. But to what she will awake: hope, or forgetfulness, or despair, I do not know. And if to despair, then she will die, unless other healing comes which I cannot bring. Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown."

Then Aragorn stopped and looked in her face, and it was indeed white as a lily, cold as frost, and hard as graven stone. But he bent and kissed her on the brow, and called her softly, saying: "Éowyn, Éomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!"

Éowyn did not stir, but now she began again to breathe deeply, so that her breast rose and fell beneath the white linen of the sheet. Aragorn bruised two leaves of _athelas _and cast them into steaming water; and he laved her brow with it, and her right arm lying cold and nerveless on the coverlet.

"Awake, Éowyn, Lady of Rohan!" Aragorn again said, and he took her right hand in his and felt it warm with life returning. "Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!" Then he laid her hand in Éomer's and stepped away. "Call her!" he said and he passed silently from the chamber.

Éomer took no notice of Aragorn's departure. "Éowyn, Éowyn!" Éomer cried amid his tears.

To his relief and great joy she opened her eyes. "Éomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?" her voice was weak, and she was still pale, but to Éomer her voice was like music to his ears.

"Not long, my sister," Éomer answered. "But think no more on it."

"I am strangely weary. I must rest a little. But tell me, what of the Lord of the Mark? Do not tell me that that was a dream; for I know that it was not. He is dead as he foresaw," Éowyn said.

"He is dead," Éomer said. "But he bade me say farewell to Éowyn, dearer than a daughter. He lies now in great honour in the Citadel of Gondor."

She closed her eyes briefly before looking at her brother again. That is grievous. And yet it is good beyond all that I dared hope in the dark days, when it seemed that the House of Eorl was sunk in honour less than any shepherd's cot. And what of the king's esquire? What of Merry? Éomer, you shall make him a knight of the Riddermark, for he is valiant!"

"He lies nearby in this House, and I will go to him. Great gladness it is to see you awake again to health and hope, so valiant a lady," Gandalf said.

"To health?" Éowyn asked. "It may be so. At least while there is an empty saddle of some fallen Rider that I can fill, and there are deeds to do. But to hope? I do not know."

Éomer, for once, held his tongue. Instead he smiled at her. "Éowyn, get some sleep, for your body is weary, and you said yourself that you must rest."

"But what of you, Éomer? Should you not also rest? You look as weary as I feel, and I will not have you lying on a cot next to mine," Éowyn said.

"I will rest later, sister. Sleep now, and regain your strength. I will sit with you for a while," Éomer said.

"You are right, I will rest," Éowyn said. "Éomer, will you sit with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes, of course, sweostor. Did I not say I would?" Éomer asked.

"Then promise me one other thing," Éowyn said and he nodded. "When I am asleep, you will go and get some rest."

"Go to sleep now, Éowyn," Éomer said gently and she obeyed him, for once.

* * *

Lothíriel let her father lead her to the House of the Stewards. She heard not what he said, for all she could think about was Éomer. Her father was babbling. He wanted her to hear of all that had happened in Dol Amroth. She ignored him, not wanting to hear about anything he said. He talked about Talon, and that was the last subject she wanted to discuss with anyone. Maybe except Éomer. She had to explain herself. She had to apology. 

"…and we came to the Citadel to find out that Denethor was dead and Faramir badly wounded and…"

For the first time her father's words reached her. "Faramir is wounded?" Lothíriel asked concerned.

"Yes," Imrahil answered. "Did you not know? Was that not why you were in the Houses of Healing?" Lothíriel was not sure what to say, so she did not answer. "Faramir will be fine, Liriel, and I hate to say so, but I think he will be even better now that his father will no longer be here to judge all he does. And it was not only Faramir who were wounded, but also the Lady Éowyn, whom you saw in the Houses, and she truly is a brave lady, slaying the leader of the Nazgûl."

Lothíriel wanted to say that she knew, that she was there and that she rode with the Rohirrim, but she could not. How could she explain where she had been and what she had done?

Imrahil had been silent for a while and gazed upon his daughter. "What has happened to you, my daughter? Where have you been?"

"That is of no concern, Ada. It does not matter," Lothíriel said.

Imrahil looked sceptically at her for a while, before he nodded. "You should rest, you must be weary. We will talk later, and then you can meet your brothers," he said and led her to a bedchamber.

Her father's belief that she was a frail little girl angered Lothíriel, but she managed to keep her temper. Before she had left Dol Amroth, she would have told him exactly what she thought, but she was not the same person who had left.

Imrahil kissed her brow. "Sleep now, Liriel. I will come later," and then he left.

Lothíriel waited a few minutes before going back to the Houses of Healing. She was about to enter when the door opened and Éomer was standing before her. They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but then Éomer started to walk away.

"Éomer!" Lothíriel grabbed his arm. "Don't go like this."

"Why not, Your Highness?" Éomer asked sarcastically. "I could not be blamed to walk away without offering you any words."

"Please, let me explain," Lothíriel pleaded.

"Explain what? That you lied to me and my men? Your friends, as you claim them to be? What about Déorl? He died without even knowing the truth! You betrayed me and the éored," Éomer's voice was low and cold, and that was even worse than if he had shouted at her.

"Don't use Déorl against me!" Lothíriel said angrily. "I should have told you, but I had my reasons not to."

"Like what, Princess?" he spat out her title. "You forgot to mention you were royalty, you forgot to tell me where you are really from and you forgot to mention your betrothed. I cannot believe I trusted you. I should never have let you ride with us."

"I fought with you, Éomer! I fought by your side on the fields of Pelennor and at Helm's Deep. Think not that I do not care for you," Lothíriel said.

"What was I to you, Liriel?" Éomer asked. "A last adventure of a spoiled and childish princess before she would have to marry a boring lord of Gondor?"

"No!" Lothíriel shouted. "No, I love you, Éomer! I think I have before I met you, and I will love you forever. Talon means nothing to me, he…"

"Talon, is that his name? I almost pity the man, for being the man you intent to marry. A spoiled princess who care only of herself. I will not be used by a childish princess." Éomer did not know where his words came from, and he was shocked at each word that escaped him. "All I was to you was an adventure, was it not?"

"No," Lothíriel protested, tears threatening to come, but she forced them back. "I lo…"

"Do not say it, Lady Lothíriel," Éomer said. "For I know you do not mean it. Marry whomever you want; you are free to do so."

Both were unable to speak, yet also unable to look away from each other. Éomer had truly believed her. He knew he still loved her, no matter how much his mind protested against his heart. He would do something now he would regret, but he did it nonetheless. He pulled her against him, forcefully pressing his lips against hers, allowing all the love and passion he felt for her melt into that one kiss. It was like tasting the forbidden, though many times he had kissed her, he had never known she was promised to another. It was like all the emotions he had kept locked inside since the battle was over was unleashed in this last kiss, and it lasted for what seemed like only a short while, yet in truth it lasted much longer. Just as suddenly as the kiss had begun he ended it, but Éomer still held her in his arms.

And then he did the hardest thing he had ever done; he let her go. He bowed to her. "I wish thee will have a blessed marriage, Princess Lothíriel." He left her there, and as she stared after him, the tears finally flowed freely down her face and she was unable to move. It seemed like several years before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She did not dare to see who it was.

"Since the First Age love has been one of the greatest mysteries for Men and Elves alike. It has the power to overcome great trials. Believe that, my child," Gandalf said. He left her standing there, and it would be dawn again before she returned to her chambers.

* * *

Éomer slowly walked through the City, finally finding the stables where Firefoot had been put. He saddled Firefoot and rode to the fields of Pelennor. 

"My lord!" It was Éothain. He obviously hadn't expected to see him. "A messenger from the City informed us you would stay in the City tonight."

"A messenger?" Éomer asked.

Éothain nodded. "Éomer, are you all right?" His friend seemed even wearier than when he had last seen him.

"She lives, Éothain," Éomer whispered and Éothain barely heard him, but hear him he did. "Éowyn lives. Thank Bema she lives."

"Éowyn lives?" Éothain could not believe it. She was alive. He sent a silent prayer to Bema, both for the king and his sister. Ever since Éomer and Éowyn had come to Edoras to live as children, Éothain and his younger sister Éohine had been friends of the two.

Another thought suddenly entered Éothain's mind. "Have you seen Liriel? She left for the City several hours ago, but she has not returned."

The relief that had just showed on Éomer's face disappeared and his expression became impossible to read. "Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth is in the City with her father and I am sure she is fine," Éomer said and disappeared inside the tent that had been readied for him. It was the tent of the king of Rohan, and Éomer was used to meet Théoden there, not sleep there himself.

Éothain had lost his ability to speak or move for a moment. Then he suddenly entered the tent. "Then why such a foul mood, Éomer? What is the problem?" Éothain asked.

"The problem?" Éomer asked as he turned to the other man.

"As far as I can see there is none. She is a princess, youare a king. Marry her and make a queen out of her," Éothain said.

Éomer turned away from him again. "The problem, Éothain, is that she is already betrothed," his voice was low. Éothain did not know what to say, so he just remained standing, not saying a word. "Should you not get some rest or attend to some duties, Éothain?" the King of Rohan asked.

"Yes, of course, my lord," Éothain answered and turned, but paused before he left. "I am sorry." And then he was gone.

* * *

Halmod was deep in thought. He had promised Déorl to keep an eye on Liriel, and when he had asked, Halmod wanted to say no, but his friend was about to die, so what could he do? And come to think of it, Liriel had certain qualities one could not help but admire. She was as brave as Lady Éowyn had been, and she was just as skilled with the blade. 

So she had pretended to be a man. So what? She was right. Lord Éomer would never have allowed her to ride with them if he knew she was a woman. What puzzled Halmod was why he had allowed her to ride with them to Helm's Deep and to Gondor. He had heard the rumours among the men that there was something going on between the Marshal and the lady, but it could be just as well be only the boredom of men laying too much into a few friendly gestures made by Lord Éomer. But perhaps there was indeed something behind these rumours.

Halmod thought about the friendship between himself, Galrim, Helmling, Déorl and Farabor, and he realized that it had not been Farabor who was the brave rider he had become friends with, but it was the woman underneath the armour.

Halmod wondered when he had become so thoughtful. He shook his head and started walking over to his tent when something caught his eye. It was a white horse lying on the ground; motionless. The finest horse he had seen that was not a Rohirric horse. He walked over to the horse; Liriel's horse. Great! Now he had to tell her that her horse was dead.

* * *

Wow! This was one emotional chapter! My sister cried when she read it! Yay, I still manage to get her cry! Just like when we were kids! Just ignore me. I'm in a really happy mood now! 

**Translations: **

Ic sculan don reccan of hwa – I must take care of something  
Ic cunnan, Éomer – I know, Éomer  
Min Cyning – My King  
Faran binnan freod to se dryhtsele of our fædes – Go in peace to the halls of our fathers  
Amdir, meleth nín – Hope, my love

**lady scribe of avandell: **Wow, thanks! I do my best! I'm also having trouble believing Lothíriel wasn't there, for in my imagination she was.

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **I know what you mean. I like women who fight, and there's more fighting ahead for Lothíriel.

**Jen: **I'll try to remember the warning. Hope you didn't laugh much about this chapter. It was supposed to be sad, not happy. And if you laughed, I have to apology for not having a warning. Well, thanks for your review.

**Starnat: **I hate Talon too! He's just trouble. Lots of trouble. You think my story is awesome? Thanks! And thanks for your awesome review!

**Skinnyrita: **Thanks for complimenting my English. For one who's not a native English speaker, it's really a big compliment. Well, my sister has the extended DVD of the return of the king, and she, of course, just have to let me borrow it sometimes. I loved the scene where Faramir and Éowyn fell in love, and it was so beautiful, though it was a bit short. And where Éomer finds his sister was also an awesome scene, but it was also a bit short. But that's just me! I'm an Éomer fanatic! And I'm trying to update faster! Hope this is fast enough!

**georgeharrison1: **Yes, when I think about it, I could have explained that a little better. But well... You're gonna giggle every time you hear his name? What did I write for you to get such a reaction? Well, thanks for reviewing!

Thanks to all of you for your reviews! Have a Happy New Year!


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **Is there any point?

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 14**

"_I wish thee will have a blessed marriage, Princess Lothíriel."_

Lothíriel still heard his voice in her head. She still felt the pain in her chest. Would she let him walk out of her life without a fight? He had made it clear with his last words to her that he was finished with her. He let her walk back to the life she had left. But did she want to return? She had missed her family, but she had survived without them. Could she live without Éomer? Could she walk back to Talon, a man she hated and absolutely did not want to marry? Could she live like that?

Someone softly knocked on the door. She had somehow found her way back to her chambers after Gandalf had left her outside the Houses of Healing. She opened the door, and her father entered.

"Come, daughter," he said. "I could hardly keep your brothers from running down here to greet you themselves. And you must be hungry. When did you last eat?"

When had she last eaten? She was not sure. Before the battle, but she hardly remembered when.

Imrahil looked at his daughter. "Lothíriel, how are you?"

"I am fine, Ada," Lothíriel answered.

"Are you sure? You do not look fine," Imrahil said. "You have been crying."

Lothíriel was suddenly busy with her cloak. "What? Why do you think..?"

"Your eyes are dark, like the darkness of the ocean during a storm. They only look that way after you have wept. What is it, my daughter? Will you not tell me, Liriel?" Imrahil asked.

"Perhaps later I will, Ada. Not know," Lothíriel whispered.

Imrahil gave her a loving smile. "Later then, if you so wish. I will be ready to listen. Now, will you come to have dinner with me and your brothers? They have missed you very much, as have I."

"Yes, Ada, I will come," Lothíriel said.

* * *

"_Marry whomever you want; you are free to do so."_

Éomer himself had told her this. And it was the truth. She was free to marry whomever she wished. Who was he to tell her otherwise? No matter how much he wanted to take her in his arms and scream at her until she agreed to marry him. No matter how much he wanted her… Éomer sighed. Why could he not simply forget? Was it too early? It was only some hours earlier that he had left her outside the Houses of Healing. He knew it then as he knew it now, that when he left her there, was the last time he would hold her in his arms and kiss her. Whether he wanted it or not, he knew that she was promised to another. It hurt to know that she was not his. It hurt to know that she would wed someone else, and that she would give herself to someone else. The knowledge that she belonged to someone else probably hurt more than that she had lied to him. He could have forgiven her for lying, had it been simply her name and title. But could he forgive her for lying to him about her betrothed? He did not know, but he doubted he would ever have to worry about that. She was not his, and he did not have to worry about what could have been.

Why then was it so hard? Why could he not get her out of his head?

* * *

Amrothos ran over to the door when Imrahil and Lothíriel came, and embraced his sister. 

"Amrothos… please… I can hardly… breath," Lothíriel managed to choke out.

"Forgive me, sister," Amrothos said and let go of her, but he still held his arms protectively around her. "Oh, I have missed you so much!"

"I have missed you also, Amrothos," Lothíriel said with a small smile.

"You have had your time now, Amrothos; let her favourite brother greet her!"

Lothíriel laughed as Erchirion pushed Amrothos aside and gave her a hug. It was the first reason she had had to laugh all day.

"It is so good to see you again, Liriel," Erchirion said.

Lothíriel only smiled. Then she looked over Erchirion's shoulder and saw her eldest brother standing patiently waiting for his younger brothers to be finished with greeting their sister. "Elphir!" Resultantly Erchirion let go of her so Elphir could greet her. Elphir gave her a gentle hug and kissed her brow. He studied her face while he still held her in his arms. "How are you, little sister? Is all as it should?" he asked.

"Everything is fine, brother." Trust Elphir to notice if something was not right. Lothíriel was certain it was his older brother instinct that made him notice such things. He always had an amazing ability to notice when something was wrong with Lothíriel, Erchirion or Amrothos. This was one of the reasons she was so close with her eldest brother. He was so loving and caring, even though he was 12 years older than her. He was a very protective brother, but that had probably something to do with him being the eldest. Lothíriel believed it was an instinct all older brothers or sisters had towards their younger siblings.

"Are you sure?" Elphir asked.

Lothíriel knew she could not hide anything from him, but she still nodded her head. "I am sure, Elphir."

"Come, hîn. Let us eat," Imrahil said.

* * *

Éomer had gone back to the Houses of Healing and was sitting next to his sleeping sister. And he wondered when life so drastically changed. Éowyn was all the family he had left. She was all he had left. He no longer had Liri… 

Éomer sighed inwardly. No matter what he was thinking about, she always made her way into his mind. He could not forget her. No matter how much he tried to, he was always reminded of her long black hair that fell in waves down her back and reminded him of the darkness of the night, or he remembered her beautiful green eyes shining in the light of a campfire. He could not forget her laugh, her smile or how she grinned when she won an argument. He simply could not forget her.

"Brother? Are you all right?"

Éomer found his sister watching him with a concerned expression on her face. "You should be sleeping," he told her softly.

"I have been sleeping for hours. Now tell me what is wrong." She was still weak, but she looked at him with determination in her eyes.

"Why do you think anything is wrong?" Éomer asked.

"I am your sister, Éomer," Éowyn said. "I know when something is bothering you."

"You should not concern yourself with my troubles, sister. All I want now is for you to get well. You should not think about anything else," Éomer said.

"Fine, be stubborn then," Éowyn muttered.

"You are hurt and tired. You must sleep, Éowyn," Éomer said. "And do not try to argue, or I will find a healer and ask if they have any herbs that will put stubborn patients to sleep."

"Already ordering people around, brother?" Éowyn asked weakly.

"I have done so for years, sister," Éomer said. "Now go to sleep."

"As you wish, my king," she whispered with a small smile before she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Éomer watched his sister sleep, and for a brief moment he was filled with hope. Not for his future, but for hers. He would do all he could to make sure his sister would be all right, and that she could live her life in peace.

* * *

Lothíriel was walking aimlessly around the lower levels of the City. She just needed to walk, be alone with her thoughts. It had been so good to see her brothers again. She never realized how much she had missed them before she met them again. It was good to see her father too, although she was not sure she had forgiven him for arranging her marriage to Talon. She loved her father, but she hated that he had arranged her marriage to that man. She hated Talon. How could she ever marry him? She loved Éomer! 

She didn't see Halmod until he was standing next to her.

"Liriel?"

She turned at him. "Good morning, Halmod."

"Is everything all right?" He even sounded concerned, to Lothíriel's amusement.

"Have you not heard? I would believe the rumours had reached the Rohirrim long ago," Lothíriel stated.

"What rumours?" Halmod asked.

"That I am really a princess of Dol Amroth," She looked him in the eyes.

Halmod looked at her, staring at her, certain he had heard wrong. "But you can fight like…"

"Three older brothers," Lothíriel answered. "They insisted that I would be able to defend myself."

"Defend yourself? Does that require that much skill like you possess here in Gondor?" Halmod asked.

Lothíriel smiled weakly. At least he did not seem to judge her. However, she was puzzled by that, since he had refused to accept that she was a woman when they found out. "Let us just say that I tended to become very eager when it came to the training they gave me. But I am sure they never imagined I would go to war."

"I am sure they did not," Halmod said. "So, does Lord Éomer know about this?"

Lothíriel nodded, closing her eyes briefly. "He was not exactly amused when he found out."

"I can understand that. Do not worry. He will see reason soon enough," Halmod said.

She shook her head. "I am afraid that will not happen."

Halmod looked at her. "Liriel… I mean…"

"Liriel is fine, Halmod," Lothíriel said.

"What is your name, Liriel? You would not use Liriel were it your true name, would you? You are too intelligent for that," he said.

"Lothíriel. Liriel is a name my father and brothers sometimes use," Lothíriel answered.

"So why do you not think Lord Éomer will see reason?" Halmod asked. "I am sure the entire éored saw what was going on between the two of you."

Lothíriel blushed. "They did?" Halmod nodded. "I made more mistakes than hiding my identity, Halmod. I… I told so many lies. I never told Éomer so many things I should have told him. If I told him earlier, perhaps he would have understood."

"What is it, Liriel?" Halmod asked. He sighed. "I know I have not been a very good friend after I discovered you were a woman, and for that I beg your forgiveness. I handled that badly, for I know that it does not change who you are, what person you are. I am your friend. I hope you still can believe that."

Lothíriel smiled. "I know you are. I have missed your friendship. And there is nothing to forgive. I know what a shock it must have been to find out. I never intended to hurt anyone, but I seem to have hurt all the people I love the most. My father and brothers when I left home. You, Déorl, Galrim, Helmling… Éomer…" his name came out as a whisper. "He is your leader. Your marshal. Soon he will also be your king. But to me he is… he is the man I love. Even though he will probably never forgive me. I will always love him, Halmod. He has also been my leader. I wish he would be my king also, but… oh, by the Valar… the reason I left home was that I am betrothed." She shook her head sadly. "I never wished for this union. It was my father who arranged it, without my consent and even without my knowledge. I wish things were different, Halmod."

Halmod was silent for a while. "I don't know what will happen, Liriel. I wish I could tell you it would work out in the end, but I cannot. And there was something I came here to tell you."

Lothíriel looked at him. "What is it?"

"Your horse… he is…"

"He died in the battle, did he not?" Lothíriel did not look at him. She did not need to hear him say it, for she knew the answer. "He was a good friend… Thalion was with me from the beginning. From Dol Amroth to Aldburg, when we were banished, to Helm's Deep and later to Gondor. I could trust him with my life. He was more than my horse. He was a companion. Sometimes he gave me grater comfort than my father or brothers were capable of."

Halmod looked at her. "You know, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth… if there is any woman whom deserves to be queen of the Riddermark, then that woman is you. Not only do you love our new king very much, but you have a love for horses that I have never seen in any person not of Rohan. You rode with us to battle, you defended Rohan as it were your own country. I cannot think of any woman more worthy to bear the title of Queen of the Riddermark and wife of Éomer King."

* * *

When Éowyn opened her eyes, her brother was nowhere to be seen. She wished he was, but she knew he had his duties to attend to. Warily she closed her eyes again, and fell into deep sleep. 

The next time she woke, she did not expect to see her brother, but Éomer was sitting next to her, staring into nothing. Éowyn frowned. What had her brother so thoughtful? His face was expressionless, but his eyes showed sadness, despair and yet Éowyn thought she saw hope.

"How long have you been here?" Éowyn asked.

Éomer looked at her. "You have been sleeping for a while, sister."

"Where have you been?" Éowyn asked. "I was awake a while ago and you were gone."

"I was in council with Aragorn, Gandalf, the sons of Elrond and Lord Imrahil," Éomer sighed. "I fear there is no easy way to say what must be said, but I fear I must leave you again. In two days we will begin out journey to Mordor."

Éowyn's eyes went wide. "Surely you are teasing me. You are going to march to Mordor and ask the Dark Lord to surrender?"

"I have already made preparations. Five hundreds of our men are unhorsed, but able to go to war, and another five hundred Riders still have their horses and are also able to go to war," Éomer said. He sighed. "It is dangerous, and I do not wish to force the men, but I have already spoken with many of the men and all are prepared to march to Mordor if I give the word. It is unnerving how they trust me to make the right decisions."

"You are their king, Éomer. Whether you are crowned or not, you are their king. Our king. And it is as our king our people see you now. Not a mere Marshal in the king's service. Your éored is used to your leadership, and they trust you. And that trust is not undeserved. You were not given that trust when you became their Marshal because you were the king's nephew, but you earned their trust. They know you and they know you will make the decisions that are best for our people. It will not be long before all our people trust you as your éored does," Éowyn smiled. "Eow will don our Eam gilphladen."

"I wish I was as certain as you, sister," Éomer muttered.

"I know what you must do, and I wish I could go with you, but even I know my injuries will not heal fully in two days, and I know you will never allow me to come with you. But I wish you luck, brother, and if all goes ill my thoughts will be with you to the end. But no matter how it ends, we will see each other again," Éowyn said.

"We will, my sister, and this is all I will promise you ere I leave," Éomer said. "But our responsibility is our people, Éowyn, and if I do not return, but the war is won, you know what you must do. I do not wish to burden you with this, but we both know it is a possibility."

"Yes, Éomer, it is, but that I will not worry about until the possibility is a fact. And if it happens, then I will do my best. You have my word."

"I know," Éomer said softly. "But is it within my power, I will come back and once again we will ride across the plains together."

"As we used to when we were children," Éowyn said, smiling fondly.

"Now I must leave you. Try to get some sleep, Éowyn. Whatever the future brings, you will need your strength," Éomer said and left her.

* * *

Lothíriel stared at her father and brothers. She wondered if she had heard them correctly. "What did you say?" 

"In two days we will take our armies and go to Mordor…" Imrahil said.

"So I did hear you correctly," Lothíriel said. "And who has decided this?"

"We all agreed it is for the best," Imrahil said. "Lord Aragorn will lead the Gondorians and the Dúnedain of the North, I will lead the knights of Dol Amroth, and Lord Éomer will lead the Rohirrim. We hope we will gather over seven thousands."

"Seven thousands? Many of our soldiers were badly wounded, and that is also the case for the Rohirrim and the Gondorian solders. What do you think we will accomplish with this? Sauron's army will outnumber our army, seven thousands or ten thousands," Lothíriel said.

"I will not wait for Sauron to attack Gondor and Dol Amroth," Elphir said. "If we fail, at least I will be dead before I see my country fall."

Lothíriel nodded. "I understand that, Elphir. I truly do understand," she looked at her father. "Will you all go?"

Imrahil nodded. "We will bid you farewell, daughter, before we leave, but now we have much to do. I must see Lord Aragorn and Lord Éomer."

"I will see you later, Ada," Lothíriel said and watched as her father and brothers left the room. She went over to the balcony and looked down. The night had come. She could see a man leaving the Houses of Healing. She knew at once who it was. _Éomer…_ The only man she could ever love. How she wished for so many things to be different. Éomer would lead his men to the Black Gate.

"_No, actually, you can not. I will still come," Lothíriel said. "Had you not discovered me, I would have obeyed almost every order you had given, but since you now know I am a woman I will not obey your orders since I am not really a member of your éored."_

_Éomer sighed. "What if I say you are a member of the éored, and since I am the Marshal, I can order you to stay behind?"_

_She smiled. "Well, since I am now officially a member of your éored again, I say that you cannot leave me behind since being a member of the éored means that I have sworn an oath to defend the Mark against its enemies. Therefore I cannot stay behind, and you have no way to win this argument. Besides time is running out," she reminded him._

She remembered their conversation before they rode to Helm's Deep. There was no way he could hinder her then, and there was no way he, or anyone else, could hinder her now.

She vowed that when the army marched from Minas Tirith in two days, she would be with them.

* * *

**Translations:**

Hîn – Children  
Eow will don our Eam gilphladen – You will make our Uncle proud

Sorry about the late update. I've been very busy with school and all. Hope it won't be that long until the next update.

**lady scribe of avandell: **Yup, it's a big mess. And it won't be easy to solve either. Sorry about not updating earlier, but as I explained, school has been making my life miserable. Thanks for not killing me yet because I'm late with updates;p

**skinnyrita: **Ups! Bad mistake. It was of course supposed to be dearer, not deader. Thanks for pointing it out, if not I would never have noticed. Well, it made me laugh too, but I had to change it. I'm trying to write serious stuff here! Thanks for reviewing.

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **Éomer will come around eventually and fight for her, but he's being stubborn right now. They're both very stubborn, so they are a good match. Thanks for the review.

**Jen: **No one in their right mind wants to marry Talon. He's just BAD. Well, they will be happy eventually. Thanks for reviewing!

**starnat: **He will fight for her, when he stops being so stubborn and let her explain everything. But right now they're going to Mordor. And then we'll see what happens…

**Sandry of Ruatha: **Thanks for reviewing. Good to know that you think it's great! Later…


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **You should know this one by now. If you don't then I suggest you find out who wrote the books.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 15**

"Though here at journey's end I lie  
in darkness buried deep,  
beyond all towers strong and high,  
beyond all mountains steep,  
above all shadows rides the Sun  
and Stars for ever dwell:  
I will not say the Day is done,  
nor bid the Stars farewell."

Song taken from the Lord of the Rings

* * *

Lothíriel had been very busy the following day. She still had her armour and weapons, so that was no problem. She had hidden them in an old part of the palace so no one could find them. She had made plans for how to join the Rohirrim without being discovered. She had also collected her saddle and gear from Thalion that night, a few hours before the sun rose. Halmod had helped her with that. To see her trusted companion again had been hard, but she needed to do it. He had been with her for so long that it was difficult to accept that he would not be with her anymore. He had been a gift from her father and mother, for her 15th birthday. 

Lothíriel did not want a replacement for Thalion, but she did need a horse. It was not an option to walk to Mordor. Many of the Rohirrim had lost their horses, but she could not walk amongst them. She was perhaps lighter, but they were physical stronger than her. She would have a hard time to keep up with them. No, she needed a horse. The question was how she would get one.

When she was walking in the stables, she recognized Faramir's horse. Though weary of battle, the horse was in a fine shape, and he could make it to Mordor. She was not sure he was as good as Thalion, and she knew he could not match a Rohirric horse, but he was exactly what she needed.

Faramir was barely awake when she came to visit him. She told him to sleep, and she said that he did not have to worry about his horse. She would take care of him. When he was better and did not find the horse in the stables, she would worry about later. If she ever returned to Minas Tirith, though that was not certain she would.

Lothíriel knew perfectly well that perhaps she would not return from Mordor. It was a possibility that she would fall on that battlefield, and no one would ever know. But she had to do it. She could not let her father and brothers go to war alone, and she could not live if something happened to Éomer, and she could do nothing about it. If he died, and she had never told him how sorry she was… she would never forgive herself. Even now she would never forgive herself for the lies spoken, the deeds done and angry words shouted. So much time lost, perhaps never to have again. Could she win Éomer back if they made it through this last battle? She would try, but she had not forgotten his stubbornness. She had to make him forgive her. She only hoped she could.

* * *

Two days after the decision to go to Mordor had been made; the army of the West was all assembled on the Pelennor. 

Lothíriel had said her farewells to her father and brothers in their rooms in the Steward's house, saying she had no wish to see them or the army of the West when they left the White City for perhaps never to return. Of course that was only a cover so she could prepare herself for the journey. Not long after she was wearing her armour and mounted on her cousin's horse. She made sure she was behind Éomer's éored. The éored she ended up riding with was under command of Marshal Erkenbrand. She did not know him personally from her time in Rohan, but she knew his reputation. He was one of the finest riders who ever served the King of Rohan, and as he served Théoden he would serve the new king. The éored was not only behind Éomer's own éored, but it was also away from the knights of Dol Amroth, so she did not have to fear her father or her brothers to find her.

Éomer had bid his sister farewell in the Houses of Healing. Éowyn was still not well enough to be up very long.

Éomer rode ahead of the army with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Imrahil. The Hobbits, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck would also be going to Mordor. Pippin would be riding with Gandalf on Shadowfax, and Éomer had agreed to take Merry on Firefoot. He hated to admit it, but Merry had actually done well in the battle, and he had aided his sister. He had been a squire to Théoden, and because of that and that he had helped his sister during the battle of Pelennor, Éomer had agreed that he would take the Hobbit.

At last the trumpets rang and the army began to move. Troop by troop, and company by company, they wheeled and went off eastward. Ere noon the army came to Osgiliath.

The vanguard passed on through the ruins of Old Gondor, and over the wide River, and on up the long straight road that in the high days had been made to run from the fair Tower of the Sun to the tall Tower of the Moon, which now was Minas Morgul in its accursed vale. Five miles beyond Osgiliath they halted, ending their first day's march.

But the horsemen pressed on and ere evening they came to the Cross-roads and the great ring of trees, and all was silent. No sign of any enemy had been seen, no cry or call had been heard, no shaft had sped from rock or thicket by the way, yet ever as they went forward they felt the watchfulness of the land increase. Tree and stone, blade and leaf were listening. The darkness had been dispelled, and far away westward sunset was on the Vale of Anduin, and the white peaks of the mountains blushed in the blue air; but a shadow and a gloom brooded upon the Ephel Dúath.

The day after, being the third day since they set out from Minas Tirith, the army began its northward march along the road. It was some hundred miles by that way from the Cross-roads to the Morannon, and what might befall them before they came so far none knew. They went openly but heedfully, with mounted scouts before them on the road, and others on foot upon either side, especially on the eastward flank; for there lay dark thickets, and a tumbled land of rocky ghylls and crags, behind which the long grim slopes of the Ephel Dúath clambered up.

At nightfall of the fifth day of the march from Morgul Vale they made their last camp, and set fires about it of such dead wood and heath as they could find.

Lothíriel had been careful to avoid those she knew amongst the company. She had not crossed paths with Imrahil, her brothers, any of the Rohirrim she knew or Éomer. Of course she knew that if she did not continue to be careful, her luck could soon turn.

* * *

Aragorn had called the captains to a last meeting before the battle. What waited them in the morning, none knew, but they all very well knew this could be their last night to live. What hope was there, if any, for them to win this battle? 

They talked about strategies and plans for the battle, but none knew what to expect. Eventually the talk turned to other things, though the subjects discussed often had something to do with the war they were in.

"At least I will not be there to see if Dol Amroth falls," Erchirion said.

"It is hardly comforting," Elphir mumbled. "I would hate to see our city fall, though I would hate it even more for Mariel and Alphros to…" He hated that he had to leave his wife and son alone in Dol Amroth. He was not near them to protect them.

"Do not worry," his father told him. "Talon is there. He will protect them if it becomes necessary."

Elphir said nothing, but he could not help but think that perhaps his wife and son were safer on their own than with Talon.

"Do not think about it," Amrothos said. "Lord Alheon will take care of them, and Mariel have Valinea to talk to. They will be fine." Of course he feared for Dol Amroth, but he feared for Valinea perhaps as much as Elphir feared for Mariel.

"No need to worry, lads," Gimli said while he sat on a small chair with his pipe. "Tomorrow we'll destroy him and his great tower and save all of Middle-earth, including your wife, Prince Elphir, and the lass of yours, Prince Amrothos."

Amrothos stared at him with his mouth open. "What? Who?"

"This Valina girl or whatever you called her," Gimli answered.

"Amrothos and Valinea?" Erchirion laughed. "I am sorry to inform you, Master Gimli, that our dear brother is far too shy to talk to any girl, and especially Valinea. She is too much for our baby brother to handle."

Amrothos was bright red in his face, though almost all thought it was of embarrassment.

"Erchirion, leave your brother alone," Imrahil said sternly.

"Yes, Ada," Erchirion said with an evil grin.

Aragorn took a seat next to Éomer, who had been sitting alone in a corner of the tent since they ceased to discuss things that had something to do with the oncoming battle. "How are you, my friend?" Aragorn asked, having noticed how the younger man had closed himself off from any of the conversations that was taking place.

"I am fine," Éomer answered, taking his eyes from Amrothos who was trying to tell Erchirion he was not shy around the fairer sex, but of course the older Prince did not listen. Amrothos reminded Éomer a little of Lothíriel, though the Prince seemed somewhat shyer than his sister.

Aragorn was not entirely certain he believed Éomer when he said he was fine, but he decided not to ask any further questions. "How fare the Rohirrim this night?"

"As good as the Gondorian soldiers and Knights of Dol Amroth I would think. It is the waiting that is hard on them," Éomer said.

"I suppose that is the way for all the soldiers, Rohirric as well as Gondorian," Aragorn said.

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Éomer said.

Aragorn sighed. He was getting nowhere with this. His instinct told him that something was bothering his friend, but Éomer would never admit anything. And of course Aragorn was troubled by his own thoughts. Thoughts of Gondor, his kingship, the oncoming battle and of course his thoughts turned often to what he had left behind in Rivendell when he left. Arwen.

Éomer left before long time had passed. Amrothos also left, having grown tired of trying to convince Erchirion that he was not shy around Valinea.

"Brothers," Amrothos muttered under his breath.

"Are you talking of brothers in general or one specific?" Éomer asked. "If you are talking of brothers in general I think I may take offence of that."

Amrothos grinned. "Then I would have to take offence of that myself would I not?" he shook his head. "Nay, I only speak of Erchirion, who can be a very annoying brother at times. Older brothers can be cruel."

"Now I think I take offence of that," Éomer said.

"We never know how bad we are until experiencing an older brother for ourselves, I tell you my friend. We are the worst creatures there is," Amrothos said. "I think you should praise yourself lucky you have no siblings older than you. According to Ada, older sisters are just as bad."

"I grew up with my cousin. I swear it was not easy at times," Éomer said.

Amrothos nodded. "Cousins, older brothers, it's all the same."

"Now I think you are insulting both me and yourself. But grant me this favour and never speak like this in front of my sister. I swear I will never hear the end of it," Éomer said.

"Only if you swear never to say anything to my sister as well," Amrothos said.

Of course he should have expected the mention of Lothíriel at some point, but he was still taken by surprise. It was ironic. The woman he could not get out of his mind, he could not bear to hear her being spoken of. He managed to nod and they continued walking towards their tents.

"So who is this Valinea?" Éomer asked. Amrothos stopped dead in his tracks. "Do not think it went by unnoticed. Perhaps the others thought nothing of it, but I know there is more to it than you pretend it is."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Amrothos said.

"Of course you don't," Éomer said. _I wonder who is the most stubborn, you or your sister. _How Lothíriel managed to invade his thoughts at all times he would never understand. "Trust me, Amrothos; you better confess your feelings for her before it is too late." And with that he left him alone.

* * *

It grew cold. As morning came the wind began to stir again, but now it came from the North, and soon it freshened to a rising breeze. 

The land seemed empty, though they knew it was all but empty. North amid their noisome pits lay the first of the great heaps and hills of slag and broken rock and blasted earth, the vomit of the maggot-folk of Mordor; but south and now near loomed the great rampart of Cirith Gorgor, and the Black Gate amidmost, and the two Towers of the Teeth tall and dark upon either side. For in their last march the Captains had turned away from the old road as it bent east, and avoided the peril of the lurking hills, and so now they were approaching the Morannon from the north-west.

The two vast iron doors of the Black Gate under its frowning arch were fast closed. Upon the battlement nothing could be seen. All was silent but watchful. They were come to the last end of their folly, and stood forlorn and chill in the grey light of early day before towers and walls which their army could not assault with hope, not even if it had brought their thither engines of great power, and the Enemy had no more force than would suffice for the manning of the gate and wall alone.

Yet they knew that all the hills and rocks about the Morannon were filled with hidden foes, and the shadowy defile beyond was bored and tunnelled by teeming broods of evil things. And as they stood they saw all the Nazgûl gathered together, hovering above the Towers of the Teeth like vultures; and they knew that they were watched.

But still the Enemy made no sign.

Éomer felt as if all his men were watching him, looking to him for hope. But he had no hope to give them. It was as he had said to Aragorn when they first met on the plains of Rohan. He had told him not to trust to hope. That it had forsaken these lands. It had forsaken Rohan, Gondor and all free lands of Middle-earth. What hope did they have for victory? What hope were there left? What hope for those left behind?

No hope. No hope for them, and no hope for those behind. He could not give his men the hope they needed. No choice was left them but to play their part to its end.

Aragorn set the host in such array as could best be contrived; and they were drawn up on two great hills of blasted stone and earth that Orcs had piled in year of labour. Before them towards Mordor lay like a moat of great mire of reeking mud and foul-smelling pools. When all was ordered, the Captains rode forth towards the Black Gate with a great guard of horsemen and the banner and the heralds and trumpeters. There was Gandalf as chief herald, and Aragorn with the sons of Elrond, and Éomer of Rohan, and Imrahil; and Legolas and Gimli and Peregrin and Meriadoc were bidden to go also, so that all the enemies of Mordor should have a witness.

Lothíriel felt her heart pounding through her armour as she saw Éomer and her father ride forth. She had carefully made sure she was in the front line of Rohirrim, so she could better see what was going on.

They came within cry of the Morannon, and unfolded the banner, and blew upon their trumpets; and the heralds stood out and sent their voices up over the battlement of Mordor.

"Come forth!" they cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then for ever. Come forth!"

Silence. Not a sound was heard. When they were about to turn away, the silence were broken suddenly. There came a long rolling of great drums like thunder in the mountains, and then a braying of horns that shook the very stones of the Black Gate was thrown upon with a great clang, and out of it there came an embassy from the Dark Tower.

It was like everyone around her stopped breathing. Lothíriel could only stare at the tall and evil shape, mounted upon a black horse, if horse it was; for it was huge and hideous, and its face was a frightful mask, more like a skull than a living head, and in the sockets of its eyes and in its nostrils there burned a flame. The rider was robed all in black, and black was his lofty helm; yet this was no Ringwraith but a living man. The Lieutenant of the Tower of Barad-dúr he was, and his name is remembered in no tale; for he himself had forgotten it, and he said: "I am the Mouth of Sauron." But it is told that he was a renegade, who came of the race of those that are named the Black Númenóneans; for they established their dwellings in Middle-earth during the years of Sauron's domination, and they worshipped him, being enamoured of evil knowledge. And he entered the service of the Dark Tower when it first rose again, and because of his cunning he grew ever higher in the Lord's favour; and he learned great sorcery, and knew much of the mind of Sauron; and he was more cruel than any Orc.

He it was that now rode out, and with him came only a small company of black-harnessed soldiery, and a single banner, black but bearing on it in red the Evil Eye. Now halting a few paces before the Captains of the West he looked them up and down and laughed. "Is there anyone in this rout with authority to treat with me?" he asked. "Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" he mocked, turning to Aragorn with scorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this. Why, any brigand of the hills can show as good a following."

Aragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other's eye and held it. To Éomer it seemed like a battle were fought between the two. Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, but the other quailed and gave back as if menaced with a blow. "I am a herald and ambassador, and may not be assailed!" he cried.

"Where such laws hold it is also the custom for ambassadors to use less insolence. But no one has threatened you. You have naught to fear from us, until your errand is done. But unless your master has come to new wisdom, then with all his servants you will be in great peril," Gandalf said.

The Messenger laughed. "So, thou art the spokesman, old greybeard? We know of thee, Master Gandalf. Indeed we know all who follow thee. This time thou hast stuck out thy nose too far, Master Gandalf; and thou shalt see what comes to him who sets his foolish webs before the feet of Sauron the Great. I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee – to thee in especial, if thou shouldst dare to come." He signed to one of his guards, and he came forward bearing a bundle of swathed in black cloths.

Éomer felt as if he was the one who understood least of the importance of the items shown to them. A short sword that was too small to belong to any man. Next the Messenger showed them a grey cloak with an elven-brooch. It was similar to the cloaks Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn wore when he met them in Rohan. Last was the mithril-mail, though Éomer did not know exactly what it was. But he knew this could only mean one thing. Their last hope was gone.

Pippin who stood behind Prince Imrahil sprang forward with a cry of grief, and Merry who stood behind Éomer would have followed him, had not Éomer grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. Merry stared up at him with tears in his eyes, pleading him to let go. "Stay where you are, Merry," Éomer said quietly.

Gandalf had ordered Pippin to keep silent and thrusting him back, but the Messenger had noticed and now laughed aloud.

"So you have yet more of these imps with you!" he cried. "What use you find in them I cannot guess; but to send them as spies into Mordor is beyond even your accustomed folly."

Éomer heard all the Mouth of Sauron and Gandalf said to each other, but not all were worth to remember. When the day was over he would find very little worth remembering.

Gandalf took the tokens from the Mouth of Sauron, and the servant of Sauron laughed no more. He gave a great cry, and turned, leaped upon his steed, and with his company galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. But as they went his soldiers blew their horns in signal long arranged; and even before they came to the gate Sauron sprang his trap.

Drums rolled and fires leaped up. The great doors of the Black Gate swung back wide. Out of it streamed a great host as swiftly as swirling waters when a sluice is lifted.

Lothíriel was about to ride forth when the Captains mounted again and rode back. Not even the Battles of Helm's Deep and Pelennor put together could compare to this. When Éomer rode over to the Rohirrim, he passed her and unknowingly she did as Éowyn had done when Théoden passed her before they charged the foe on the fields of Pelennor; she turned away and hid her face.

Upon one hill Aragorn stood with Gandalf, and there fair and desperate was raised the banner of the Tree and Stars. Upon the other hill hard by stood the banners of Rohan and Dol Amroth, White Horse and Silver Swan.

The wind blew, and the trumpets sang, and arrows whined; but the sun now climbed towards the South as veiled in the reeks of Mordor, and through a threatening haze it gleamed, remote, a sullen red, as if it were the ending of the day, or the end maybe of all the world of light. And out of the gathering mirk the Nazgûl came with their cold voices crying words of death; and then all hope was quenched.

At Helm's Deep and Pelennor they had been outnumbered, but still they had won. Now, Éomer knew they would fall. They were outnumbered this time as well, but the difference was that they had attacked. It was not the other way around. They were not the defenders this time. Éomer thanked the Valar that Éowyn was not there. He had almost lost her once. He could not lose her again.

He killed foe after foe, Gúthwinë was covered in Orc-blood. Many lives the blade had taken, and many more would it take.

Suddenly he stopped. His eyes saw something his brain worked furiously to understand. He knew the movements so well. The way the sword was used, the footwork, everything. He knew who it was, but he refused to admit it.

_What is she doing here?_

Suddenly he was back in the presence. Orcs were cutting him off from the others, attacking him from all sides. His moves were not desperate, even though he knew that any moment a blow could come from behind and he would be dead. He fought and fought, trying to get away.

Lothíriel saw what happened. Éomer was surrounded, he had no escape. Furiously she fought her way towards him. She knew it was her fault. He had seen her and lost his concentration. Because of her he might die! She fought against enemies and time. She had to reach him before it was too late.

* * *

**This is the author speaking: **I'm back, and I'm more evil than ever! I'm cutting the chapter here. Sorry guys, but I just have to. I warned you: I'm evil! 

I liked the idea of Merry being at the Black Gate, so I brought him along. Hope no one's too mad at that.

Now to the replies…

**lady scribe of avandell: **She's a messy girl, making a mess wherever she goes, and Mordor is no exception. Of course she's making it worse. But it can only go two ways from here: right up or right down. Ha ha! Well, thanks for the review!

**starnat: **I like his stubbornness, and hers too. I'm pretty stubborn myself, so I guess it's a bit of me in the characters, especially Lothíriel. But she's pretty, while I look like a troll, so I assure you it's only the personality;-p I also like her going to Mordor for the battle, but is it the final battle? You'll see. Hope this chapter lived up to the expectations.

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **Yup, she has a great spirit. I love it too! Ha ha, I wrote her and her spirit! Yahoo! Sorry, I'm in a very happy mood. A bit mischievous, actually. And Halmod is pretty cool. I wrote him too! Oh, I better get on with the replies. Thanks for reviewing.

**wondereye: **They haven't exactly crossed paths yet, but you see it's coming! Yay! I hope this chapter was great too! Thanks for leaving a review!

**skinnyrita: **You know how it is. School's being a bitch again, with tests and papers and everything, but I'm trying to update as soon as I can. And here's the dilemma: will Lothíriel save Éomer, or will he find away out of it himself? We know he doesn't die, so I won't even bother trying to tell you he does. Besides, I would never kill Éomer! But how will he get himself out of this one? Indeed, what will happen?

**georgeharrison1: **Glad you liked it! I hope this chapter lives up to the expectations. Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **Not all dreams come true you know.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 16**

"Is it true what they say,  
are we too blind to find a way?  
Fear of the unknown clouds our hearts today.  
Come into my world,  
see through my eyes.  
Try to understand,  
don't want to lose what we have."

"See Who I Am" by Within Temptation

* * *

An Orc attacked Éomer and forced him to the ground and was ready to cut his throat. Éomer saw what was about to happen, and blocked the attack and drove his sword into the Orc before the Orc had a time to react. Éomer got to his feet, turned around and killing another enemy. 

Another Orc attacked Éomer from behind, ready to behead him, and Éomer had no time to react. But the Orc-blade was stopped before it could connect with Éomer's back. Éomer turned and recognized at once who had saved his life.

Lothíriel cut the Orc down, keeping her back at Éomer, while thanking the Valar she reached him in time. They started fighting back-to-back, but Éomer was not happy with the situation.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Éomer shouted.

"I'm preventing you from getting killed!" Lothíriel replied, cutting down an enemy.

Éomer cursed rather colourfully in Rohirric as he killed Orc after Orc. As they were two now, they could watch each others backs, though the chance for them getting out of this battle alive were still slim.

All about the hills the hosts of Mordor raged. The Captains of the West were foundering in a gathering sea. The sun gleamed red, and under the wings of the Nazgûl the shadows of death fell dark upon the earth.

Suddenly they could hear many voices crying: "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

And true, there came the mighty Eagles, Gwaihir the Windlord, and Landroval his brother, greatest of all the Eagles of the North. The Nazgûl turned and fled, and vanished into Mordor's shadows, hearing a sudden terrible call out of the Dark Tower; and even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutched their hearts, their laugher failed, their hands shook and their limbs were loosed.

Éomer, King of Rohan, and Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, were reunited with Éothain and the Rohirrim. Those who had ridden with the King these last months recognized Lothíriel for who she was, but of loyalty to their lord they did not say anything about it and it was not mentioned for a long time after the battle.

The earth rocked beneath their feet, and then rising swiftly up, far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, a vast soaring darkness sprang into the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, tottered, and fell down; the mighty rampart crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and from far away, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble, a roar, a long echoing toll of ruinous noise.

"The realm of Sauron is ended!" Gandalf said. "The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his quest!"

As they looked south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of clouds, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.

Lothíriel reached out and took Éomer's hand in hers, and he did not force her to let it go. Perhaps it was still hope for them. Perhaps the fall of Mordor was a symbol that all would change for the better, even for them.

With the fall of Mordor the enemy fled; they ran hither and dither mindless; and some slew themselves, or cast themselves in pits, or fled wailing back to hide in the holes and dark lightless places far from hope.

* * *

Lothíriel managed to hide her presence from her father and brothers, but when she heard that Lord Imrahil had sent for his daughter to come to Cormallen, she had a problem. Éomer had not spoken to her since the battle; he had not even looked at her. She had been with the Rohirrim since the battle, and she had kept company with Galrim, Halmod and Helmling. Éothain had also talked with her, but that Éomer had not spoken to her was both irritating and frustrating. 

One night she approached him as he was brushing Firefoot. Even though she was sure he had seen her, he did not look at her, talk to her or even acknowledge her presence.

For a long time she was simply looking at him, willing him to talk first. At last she lost the battle. "Will it always be like this between us?" she asked, taking a step towards him. He didn't answer. "Will you not even talk to me?"

"What do you want me to say?" Éomer asked. "That we can pretend like nothing has happened. What do you think has changed in these last days? Nothing is changed and nothing will change. Do you understand, Princess?" he spoke in a low voice. "We will go on with our lives, but we will live them separated."

"What we had, did that mean nothing to you?" Lothíriel asked. He did not answer her. "It meant something, did it not? Whether you admit it or not, what we once had meant as much to you as it did to me."

"It is over, Princess," Éomer said. "Do not dwell on that which can never be."

She felt the tears pressing, but she refused to cry. "Did I mean nothing to you?" her voice was weak and she barely recognized it herself. Apparently it did not matter how many times she heard him say it in different words. She found herself clinging to a hope that it would all be all right; that one day she would wake up next to the man she loved and all would be as it should be.

"I still have hope," she told him and left him standing there. Tears ran freely down her face as she hurried away. She needed to be alone.

Éomer looked after her and when she was out of sight he hid his face in Firefoot's neck. Why couldn't he just admit he was wrong? His damned pride would be his downfall. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, to tell her all was not lost and that it was still a chance for them to be together. He wanted to tell her he loved her. But his pride would not allow him this. Had he ever apologized for anything in his life? He never felt sorry for anything.

And perhaps it was better for this to end now. It hurt, but it hurt not as much as it would if he were to lose her later. For Éomer, this was the first time he had ever walked away from a battle.

* * *

Cormallen was filled with people. This was the celebration of the fall of Mordor. The Ring-bearer and his companion were healed. The world was filled with light. 

Éomer was sitting on the high-seat to the right of Aragorn, the banner of Rohan, a great white horse running free upon a green field, were behind him. Prince Imrahil were at Aragorn's left, the banner of Dol Amroth, silver upon blue, a ship swan-prowed faring on the sea, behind him. Aragorn's throne was higher and behind him free in the wind was a white tree flowered upon a sable field beneath a shining crown and seven glittering stars.

Lothíriel were hidden in her cloak, watching Éomer where he sat on the throne next to the yet uncrowned king of Gondor, looking every bit of the king she knew he was.

With one last look at him, she turned around and left the field. Her horse, or Faramir's horse, was saddled and ready.

"Are you sure about this?" Halmod asked, handing her the reins.

"No, but I must do this anyway," she answered. "I owe you so much, my friend. So much I can never repay you."

"Promise me one thing," Halmod said.

"Anything is it within my power," she answered.

"Promise me you will fight," Halmod said. "Fight for him, fight for your love."

"This battle may be one I cannot win," Lothíriel said quietly and mounted. "I bid you farewell. Take care of your king until I see you again." With that she rode towards Minas Tirith.

"Ride safe, my friend," Halmod said quietly. "Min Cwen."

* * *

"In my world  
Love is for poets  
Never the famous balcony scene  
Just a dying faith  
On the heaven's gate"

"Swanheart" by Nightwish

* * *

"Cousin, where have you been?" Faramir asked as he embraced her. She had returned to Minas Tirith one hour earlier and had just had time to return to her room and change into a gown before Faramir had been notified she had returned. When he had heard his cousin was in the City, Faramir had at once come to find her. 

Lothíriel returned the embrace. "Does it matter, cousin, where I have been and what I have done?" she asked. "Will it make a difference shall decide I fight?"

Faramir still held her in his arms, but he looked at her. "What are you talking about, Liriel? What are you fighting?"

"Does it matter?" Lothíriel asked, freeing herself from his embrace. "Does anything matter anymore?"

"All we do now matters," Faramir said. "The Dark Lord has fallen and we have our lives."

"You yes, but me? No, my life is not my own," Lothíriel said.

"Cousin…" Faramir started.

Lothíriel stared out of the window. "You have perhaps heard why I ran away all those months ago," without waiting for his reply she changed the subject. "How are you, cousin? I hope you are healed and not walking around the City without permission from the healers."

"I am well, cousin, and capable of doing my duty until the King returns," Faramir said.

"Then let us not waste time here," Lothíriel turned at him. "There is much to be done and I am here to help you."

Faramir nodded, smiling. "Then come, for first there is someone I want you to meet."

And she followed him to the garden where on a bench sat Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, and she was now healed, watching them approach with a smile that reached her eyes.

Faramir kissed her cheek as she rose to meet them. "Éowyn, there is someone I want you to meet. This is my cousin, Lothíriel, daughter of Prince Imrahil. Lothíriel, this is Éowyn of Rohan, sister of King Éomer."

And although the Princess of Dol Amroth knew very well who Éowyn was, she did not say. She simply smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Éowyn."

"And you as well, Princess Lothíriel," Éowyn replied with a smile.

"Lothíriel, Éowyn have agreed to become my wife," Faramir said happily.

Lothíriel smiled, wondering what her brother would say when he found out. "I am so happy for you, cousin," she said and hugged him, before she turned at Éowyn and hugged her as well. "Please, if we are to be family you must call me Lothíriel. No formalities or titles."

"I agree," Éowyn said. "So you must remember to simply call me Éowyn."

"I am so happy for you both," Lothíriel said. "Faramir deserves to be happy, as you do."

"Well, I must speak first with my brother," Éowyn said. "If he refuses I must knock some sense into that thick skull of his."

It was funny how Éomer always seemed to be a subject when she was around. He had an ability to always get into her head, or perhaps it was that he never left her mind. "I am sure your brother will only wish what is best for you, and because of that he cannot deny you to be with Faramir."

"No, I have no fear for my brother," Éowyn said. "I love Éomer and he loves me, and he will not deny me what makes me happy."

"No brothers should," Lothíriel said, thinking of her own brothers and her father.

And while they there in the garden, Faramir observed his cousin carefully. She was not the girl he had last seen when he visited Dol Amroth. She had changed into a woman, though in appearance she had not been a girl for years. She was not the inexperienced and spoiled princess she had once been. When he thought about it he barely recognized his cousin, as she was now more serious and also there were something sad about her, something sorrowful. Though it was not the same as when she had lost her mother.

It was after her mother died Lothíriel had been spoiled rotten, since Imrahil could deny her nothing. Now she had grown up, but the sorrow was hanging over her like a dark cloud, and Faramir did not know what had happened to change her so.

* * *

One night Lothíriel was standing on her balcony, looking eastward. The next day would be the crowning of King Elessar, and then she would see _him_ again. She had sent a message to her father, explaining to him why she couldn't come to the field of Cormallen, though all she had written were lies. 

Lies… she was good at telling them now. Lies had led her to the predicament she found herself in now. Lies had driven Éomer away from her.

Darkness had fallen, yet her future lay darkness. The future was uncertain and she wished with all her heart that her future was with Éomer, but how she could get out of Talon's clutches, she did not know.

What tomorrow would bring remained to be seen.

* * *

"The sun is sleeping quietly  
Once upon a century  
Wistful oceans calm and red  
Ardent caresses laid to rest  
For my dreams I hold my life  
For wishes I behold my night  
The truth at the end of time  
Losing faith makes a crime

I wish for this night-time  
To last for a life-time  
The darkness around me  
Shores of a solar sea  
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun

Sleeping  
Weeping  
With you

Sorrow has a human heart  
From my god it will depart  
I'd sail before a thousand moons  
Never finding where to go  
Two hundred twenty-two days of light  
Will be desired by a night  
A moment for the poets play  
Until there's nothing left to say

I wish for this night-time  
To last for a life-time  
The darkness around me  
Shores of a solar sea  
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun

Sleeping  
Weeping  
With you

I wish for this night-time  
To last for a life-time  
The darkness around me  
Shores of a solar sea  
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun

Sleeping  
Weeping  
With you"

"Sleeping Sun" by Nightwish

* * *

**Translations:  
**Min Cwen – My Queen 

**Author's note: **Sorry for the late update. I've been lacking inspiration and school have been taking up most of my time. Actually, I feel pretty proud of this chapter, since I wrote it in a few hours. And I have 14 days off and I'll use the time I can to write, when I'm not outside enjoying the sun!

**starnat: **Yup, he discovered her, but he was not very happy about her being there. He should get over it. And Talon… when will we know what he is up to? You just have to read and find out.

**lady scribe of avandell: **Yeah, I had to. Sorry, but I couldn't help myself. And I finally updated again! I'm getting lazy… bad me (hits myself in the face)… that hurt… ah, well, I'll try to update more often.

**Lady Anck-su-namun: **Here's the chapter, but it's a bit late, I know. Haven't had much time to write, and I've been lazy. Well, I'm trying to change. Really, I am.

**skinnyrita: **I'm good at that, being back just in time. This nearing the end? Maybe, but there's still much that has to be written. We shall see;p

**wondereye: **When Éomer and Talon meet? You don't have to wait too long, I think, but I'm not sure. Read and find out;)

**Aya013: **Glad you like it! I'm so happy when people tell me they like it. It's even better when they say they love it! Thanks! You're good to my ego;p Late update, but here it is. Thanks for the review.

**MexicanDevil-RoadCrew: **Don't die! Please, don't die! I can't go to prison for killing my readers! Ah, good, you're not dead. I became worried there for a second. Well, here's the update. Thanks for reviewing.

**faerie enchantress: **Yes, according to the movie both of them were at the Black Gate, but in the book Merry was left in Minas Tirith because of his injuries, and Pippin was the only Hobbit that was at the Black Gate. But thanks for your review!


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the characters Tolkien created.

**Author's Note: **Been a long time now, but here's the chapter. School's over and I'm probably gonna get a heat stroke before I manage to update next chapter. I've been busy with exams and moving and stuff so I haven't had much time for writing. But here it is. Read and review, guys.

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**  
Chapter 17**

No gates had been set up again, but a barrier was laid across the entrance to the City, and there stood men in arms in silver and black with long swords drawn. Before the barrier stood Faramir the Steward, and Húrin Warden of the Keys, and other captains of Gondor, and the Lady Éowyn of Rohan with Elfhelm the Marshal and many knights of the Mark, and also Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth stood there, awaiting the arrival of the captains of the West. And upon either side of the Gate was a great press of fair people in raiment of many colours and garlands of flowers.

There was a wide space before the walls of Minas Tirith, and it was hemmed in upon all sides by the knights and the soldiers of Gondor and of Rohan, and by the people of the City and of all parts of the land. A hush fell upon all as out from the host stepped the Dúnedain in silver and grey; and before them came walking slow the Lord Aragorn. With him were Éomer of Rohan, and the Prince Imrahil, and Gandalf robed all in white, and four small figures that many men marvelled to see.

But Princess Lothíriel only had eyes for one man, the man she loved more than anything in the world. He looked even more handsome than the last time she had seen him, if that was possible. She forced herself to look at the grown before anyone could see the tears that threatened to come.

Éomer tried hard not to look at her, but it was a battle he lost before it even started. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The thin blue gown she wore only made her look more magnificent. Again Éomer cursed himself for letting her go without fighting for her. But it was too late now, wasn't it? He had lost her, and there was nothing he could do to win her back.

Faramir and Húrin of the Keys came forth, and behind them walked four men in the high helms and armour of the Citadel, and they bore a great casket of black lebethron bound with silver.

Neither Éomer nor Lothíriel heard anything before Faramir spoke in a clear voice: "Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! one has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Númenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?" And all the host and all the people cried _yea _in one voice.

And slowly they all made their way to the Citadel.

When all was ready the coronation of Aragorn started. Frodo came forward and bore the ancient crown of the king of Gondor and he gave it to Gandalf, and Gandalf set the White Crown upon Aragorn's head and said: "Now comes the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!"

Aragorn arose and all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them now for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him.

And King Elessar looked at his people and said the words that Elendil spoke when he came up out of the Sea on the wings of the wind: "Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!"

And then Faramir cried: "Behold the King!"

And in that moment all the trumpets were blown, and all the people were happy. But for some true happiness had not yet come, and both Éomer and Lothíriel believed they would live their lives without the person they loved.

* * *

In the following days of his crowning the King sat upon his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced his judgements. And embassies came from many lands and peoples, from the East and the South, and from the borders of Mirkwood, and from Dunland in the west. And the King pardoned the Easterlings that had given themselves up, and sent them away free, and he made peace with the peoples of Harad; and the slaves of Mordor he released and gave them all the lands about Lake Núrnen to be their own. 

Lothíriel sat most of the time unnoticed near the window, which suited her fine. It gave her an opportunity to observe the peoples the King greeted, and it also gave her something to occupy her mind with. She was there when King Elessar gave her cousin Ithilien to be his princedom, and only then she rose from her seat and congratulated Faramir, and again Faramir saw how his cousin had changed and he was both wondered and concerned about it.

And last of all Aragorn greeted Éomer of Rohan, and they embraced. "Between us there can be no word of giving or taking, nor of reward; for we are brethren. In happy hour did Eorl ride from the North, and never has any league of peoples been more blessed, so that neither has ever failed the other, nor shall fail," Aragorn said. "Now, as you know, we have laid Théoden the Renowned in a tomb in the Hallows, and there he shall lie for ever among the Kings of Gondor, if you will. Or if you desire it, we will come to Rohan and bring him back to rest with his own people."

"Since the day when you rose before me out of the green grass of the downs I have loved you, and that love shall not fail. But now I must depart for a while to my own realm, where there is much to heal and set in order. But for the Fallen, when all is made ready we will return for him; but here let him sleep a while," Éomer said.

And Lothíriel observed the exchange between the two kings. She knew Éomer had much to do in Rohan, and she wished she could go with him and help him. But what her heart desired she could never have and this was the last she saw of her beloved for some time.

* * *

Éowyn had observed her brother since they left Minas Tirith and she knew something was wrong. Many hours he spent in their Uncle's old study, his study, and all he did after their return was to work. One morning as the two of them were having their morning meal, Éowyn studied her brother. He looked thoughtful and hardly touched his food. His lack of apatite was something she had noticed the first night after they had left Gondor, but she had chosen to put her worry aside, telling herself that her brother was a grown man who could look after himself. 

His eating habits were not the only things that had changed. He was more silent, had withdrawn into himself. She had noticed him staring into nothing, as if studying a very interesting part of the wall or the floor. He also spent less and less time in the stables, only exercising Firefoot for a short time every day. She also wondered if he was getting enough sleep.

"You look tired," she commented.

"Being king is enough to make any man tired," her brother replied, not looking up.

Éowyn frowned. "That cannot be everything," she said. "Something is troubling you."

Éomer looked at her. "I assure you, nothing is wrong."

Éowyn looked at him. "I don't believe you. Something is troubling you and I want you to tell me what it is." He looked back at her, but said nothing. Éowyn shook her head in frustration. "Awiergan ge, Éomer, ge will asegan me!"

"There is nothing to tell," Éomer said flatly. He could not tell her. He could tell no one. "It will not be long until I must return to Minas Tirith," he said, changing the subject. "I wish for you to remain here and make sure all is prepared."

She did not need to think about her decision. As much as she wanted to see Faramir again, she had a duty to her country, her brother and to her uncle. "I will remain."

Éomer nodded, looking down at his untouched plate. "I am sure he will accompany Aragorn here for the funeral."

"Who?" Éowyn looked at him questionably, not sure what he was talking about.

Éomer looked at her, a brow raised and giving her a rare smile. "What? Do you think I am blind, Éowyn?"

Éowyn looked at her brother, not understanding what he was talking about. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Is it not the new Steward of Gondor who has kept you so distraught since our departure from Minas Tirith?" Éomer asked, still smiling.

Éowyn gaped at him. _How does he know?_ She had not mentioned Faramir, partly because their uncle's upcoming funeral and Éomer's crowning, and partly because of her worry for her brother and that she had now idea how he would react when she told him.

"I cannot believe I actually lived to see my sister speechless," Éomer chuckled.

"When did you find out?" she asked, ignoring his teasing.

"I told you, sister, I am not blind."

"I suppose not, but how did you find out? We did not tell anyone you might have spoken to about us."

"You underestimate me, Éowyn," Éomer said. "I have never seen you as happy as I saw you when I returned from the Black Gate. I saw how you looked at him, how he looked at you. I want you to know that whatever choice you make, I will be happy for you."

At first Éowyn did not know what to say, then she smiled, rose form her chair and embraced her brother. "You are the best brother I could ever have, Éomer."

* * *

It was a few weeks since Lord Elrond had come to Minas Tirith and with him was his daughter, Arwen Undómiel, the bride of King Elessar. It was with mixed emotions Lord Elrond had given Aragorn permission to marry his daughter. He knew they belonged together. The love they had was the same he shared with his wife, Celebrían. He was happy they had found each other, happy that his beloved daughter had found someone she loved as much as Elrond himself loved his wife, Arwen's mother. And he had raised Aragorn and loved him like a son. But no matter how happy he was for them, he was sad that he had to let his daughter remain in Middle-earth, for she had chosen to stay with Aragorn. She had chosen a mortal life. 

The wedding was the next day, and people came from all parts of Gondor to see the great event, and to see their future queen.

A messenger had come from Éomer of Rohan, regretting he could not attend the event, but too many matters in his own country needed his attention before he could return to the White City.

Lothíriel was glad he could not come. She wanted to see him again, but she needed time to find out what she was going to do. She needed to talk to someone about Éomer. And she knew who she was going to talk to, but that would have to wait. It had to wait until there were not so many people around.

She looked to her right and noticed how Elphir could barely stand still. He was switching his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. He seemed to be unable to decide what to do with his hands, and Lothíriel also noticed how his eyes scanned the people coming towards them. She put a hand on his arm. "You should relax, brother."

He gave her a sidewise glance through the corner of his eye. "Relax? What makes you think I'm not relaxed?" She gave him a look that clearly said what she thought. "All right, but it's just been so long, Liriel… I haven't seen them for months."

She smiled. "Look."

The company from Dol Amroth approached, lead by Lady Mariel. Elphir's eyes lit up as he saw her. He could not stand still any longer. Before anyone realised what was happening he ran towards them and took her horse by its reins and looked up at her. Then without a word she let him help her down and he did not let her go when he first had her in his arms.

Imrahil smiled as his son greeted his wife. He knew all too well how it was to be separated from your family because of war. It was perhaps not correct protocol for a prince to greet his wife like that in public, in front of the King of Gondor and his future queen and some Elves, a Dwarf and some Hobbits, but how could Imrahil fault him? It was nothing wrong to miss ones wife and be happy to see her again after a long time of separation.

But although Imrahil was not shocked by his son's behaviour, Amrothos and Erchirion could not believe what they were seeing. They were simply shocked to see their brother not following the proper protocol for once, and instead of waiting for the company he ran ahead and met them, and in addition kissed his wife in front of the King of Gondor!

"Did he just..?" Erchirion asked.

"Yes," Amrothos nodded.

"And he's now…"

"Yes," Amrothos continued to nod, knowing what his brother was trying to say.

"Is this a..?"

"A nightmare?" Amrothos asked when Erchirion did not seem to find out what to say. "Yes."

"This is unbelievable!" Erchirion exclaimed. "This is our brother, Amrothos. Or at least what looks like Elphir. The Elphir I grew up with would never do anything like this. Serious Elphir would never kiss his wife in front of all the nobility of Gondor! Something is wrong, Amrothos. Someone has kidnapped our Elphir and replaced him with that one!" He pointed at his older brother.

Amrothos nodded, looking seriously at Erchirion. "You are right, brother. He must have been kidnapped last night, for I remember Elphir telling me yesterday that I behaved like an Orc with an ear infection and that I had no idea what protocol was. Since he is now breaking protocol it cannot be the same person."

"Our Elphir was always very strict when it came to proper protocol," Erchirion said.

"He was," Amrothos agreed. "Should we send people to search for our lost brother?"

"Why? I like this Elphir much better," Erchirion said.

"Erchirion, Amrothos," Lothíriel glared at them. "Na dínen. You behave like children."

The two princes looked at each other, then at their sister, a similar expression of confusion clouding their features.

"What?" Erchirion asked. She ignored them, looking at Elphir and his wife. "What did we do?" Amrothos shrugged.

Lothíriel smiled as Elphir took his son in his arms and led his family over to them. Behind Mariel was Valinea, who had dismounted and followed them towards the waiting royalty. She saw Amrothos standing next to Erchirion. The youngest prince of Dol Amroth was even more handsome than she remembered. But when she saw who was standing on the other side of Erchirion her brown eyes widened in shock. Next to Erchirion was the friend she had last seen riding away from Dol Amroth. Yet as much as she wanted to run up to Lothíriel she followed Mariel and Elphir over to the new king of Gondor.

Lothíriel smiled as she saw the shocked expression on Valinea's face, though her smile quickly faded once she saw the man behind her friend. _Talon…_ She wanted to disappear, but realized she couldn't move. His eyes found her and at first he looked surprised, but then his expression changed and he smiled.

She looked away, not wanting to see him and she certainly did not want him to see how uncomfortable he made her. But the way he smiled made her think he already knew. She dreaded the moment she would have to face him. It was hard enough to simply see him. She thought of Éomer. His smile, his eyes, his touch… the first time she saw him in Aldburg. She remembered how he made her feel simply by looking at her. Had she truly lost him with her lies and deception? She had never meant for things to turn out this way. She wanted above all else to marry Éomer and be with him until the day she died, but could her dream ever come true? Talon was ever in her dark thoughts, threatening to destroy her life. He had already come between her and Éomer, even though he did not know Éomer existed. No one knew about her and the king of Rohan, except Galrim, Helmling, Halmod and Éothain. She knew they would never say anything about the subject, and she trusted each man with her life, as she knew Éomer did.

But seeing Talon again only made Lothíriel more certain that she would never be truly happy again. She was still bound to him by the marriage contract her father had signed, thus sealing her fate. But she would not give Talon the satisfaction of seeing her weakness. She would be strong, cold and unfeeling. She would fight. If she could not be Éomer's wife, she would be no man's wife.

After showing the proper respect to King Elessar, Valinea hurried over to Lothíriel and embraced her. "Nae saian luume', Liriel," Val whispered.

Lothíriel nodded. "It has… I have missed you, Val."

"I have missed you too. I never thought I would see you again," Val said. She looked into her eyes. "Where have you been?"

"Not now," Lothíriel answered. "Later."

Then Talon approached. The smile on his face made Val shudder. "Princess Lothíriel, what a pleasure to see you again," he said pleasantly. "We feared for you. We were certain something terrible had befallen you, so far from home and all alone in the wilderness."

Valinea looked at Lothíriel with concern, but the princess looked calmly at Talon, her eyes cold and unreadable. "Lord Talon, your worries and fear for my well being is not necessary. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." The politeness in her voice was forced, and even Talon noticed that. But then again his politeness was no less forced than hers.

He smiled pleasantly. "I am so happy you have returned safely, Princess. Once we are wed, you will never have to fear for your own safety again."

Lothíriel gave a short laugh. "Oh, I assure you, Lord Talon, I never once feared for my safety since I left Dol Amroth."

"And was there anything in Dol Amroth, my lady, which made you fear for your safety?" Talon asked.

"I never feared for my safety, Lord Talon." _Only my freedom, _she added silently to herself. She looked around. "Well, it seems like all guests have arrived," she stated as she saw that the King had summoned servants to see that his guests were shown to their chambers. "I will now show my friend to her chambers." She took Valinea's hand in hers and turned to leave.

"Is that not a job for the servants, my lady?" Talon asked, quite aware of the fact that the Princess and Lady Valinea were close friends, and that it would be a perfect opportunity to get away from him. Whatever the game she played, Talon knew that Princess Lothíriel's dislike for him had not diminished.

"Perhaps it is," Lothíriel replied, not looking at him as she and Val left.

Talon looked after them, his brow furrowed. This was not what he had expected when he saw the Princess again. He had expected to find the same child as the one who had run away from Dol Amroth all those months ago. But it seemed like the little spoiled princess had grown into a woman. A woman in appearance she had been last he saw her, but now her demeanour seemed more mature. She was no longer the passionate and spirited princess he remembered, but in her place was a woman who hid her emotions as she hid the true meaning of her words. In truth Talon had no idea what the Princess' intentions were. Would she wed him without a fight?

But what had changed in the Princess did not matter. He would still wed her and he would have his way with her, something he had looked forward to since he first met the Princess. And nothing would stand in his way, or in the way of what he had planned. With a pleased smile Talon nodded to the servant who had waited for him to agree to be shown to his room.

* * *

"You have to tell me everything," Val said the second the door closed behind them. 

Lothíriel sighed, thinking back at her encounter with Talon. She would not let him see her weak.

"Liriel, what is going on?" Val asked as she sat down on the bed. "You seem so different. Just the way you behaved when Talon came over… the Lothíriel I remember would have threatened to kill him."

Lothíriel raised a brow. "I would, wouldn't I?"

Val shook her head. "And what is that supposed to mean?" She took a deep breath. "It's not that I don't approve of the way you behaved. In fact you behaved more like a princess than you did even before your… you know."

"Before my mother's death," Lothíriel silently said.

Val nodded. "And I'm sure she would approve of how you handled that situation. Your father too, had it not been for the fact that he like Talon and wants him to marry you."

"You don't think Ada would like anyone else as his son-in-law?" Lothíriel asked, not looking at her friend.

Val shrugged. "Talon has your father around his little finger. I am not sure what lies he has told or how he has managed to fool your father and the rest of the court, but I know I would be happier if you married anyone but Talon."

Lothíriel smiled sadly. "But how will I get out of the marriage contract with Talon?"

"A problem I have not yet found the solution to, but I am working on it," Val said. "But should we not just find a man your father would like better than Talon?" She asked with a smile.

Lothíriel went over to the window, and Val noticed her expression.

"What is it?" Val asked concerned. "Liriel, what's wrong?"

Lothíriel shook her head. "Nothing, it's just…" she took a deep breath before she turned at Val again. "When I ran away from home I eventually made it to Rohan. I came to a fortress, Aldburg and…" she smiled at her friend.

"What?" Val asked.

"I became a rider."

"What do you mean you became a rider?"

"I dressed as a boy and became a rider in the éored under the command of the Third Marshal of the Mark," Lothíriel said.

Valinea was confused. "You mean you became a soldier?" Lothíriel nodded as her smile faded. "What is it?" Val asked.

"The Marshal… I met him when I first came to Aldburg." Lothíriel sat down on the bed with a sigh. "His name is Éomer, son of Éomund and when I met him he was the Third Marshal of the Mark, and his responsibility was the Eastmark."

"You speak of him as past," Valinea noted.

"In a way he is my past. I cannot see him in my future as things are developing now," the Princess whispered. She was looking at the floor. "I later learned he was King Théoden's nephew. He is the most amazing man I have ever met. He is a warrior and a leader, yet at times he can be so caring and gentle."

"Is he handsome?" Val could not resist asking.

Lothíriel nodded. "Very. He is the tallest man I have ever seen. He has long hair that fall in blonde waves down his shoulders. In a way you cannot determine what colour his eyes are. They are dark and can be very intense."

"What happened?" Val asked quietly, taking a seat on the bed next to Lothíriel and taking her hands in her own.

Lothíriel let a single tear fall down her face as she started telling Valinea the story of what happened to her after she came to Aldburg and met Éomer, son of Éomund.

* * *

"This is excellent wine, my lord," Lord Talon said with a smile, looking at his future father-in-law. 

Imrahil nodded. "I am concerned for my daughter, Talon, as I am sure you understand."

"Of course you are, my lord. Who knows what she was exposed to all those months she was on her own. A miracle she survived," Talon said. "You did a fine job raising her."

Imrahil ignore the compliment. "She needs her freedom, Talon. Without her freedom I fear she will wither and die. She is like the sea, wild and beautiful. I will not have my daughter any other way. If her freedom is taken away from her she will become motionless, like the sea after a storm. She needs to be who she is, and have the freedom to make her own choices. Her mother and I raised her to be independent, although I admit it may have something to do with the fact that she is so stubborn now."

Talon smiled, gesturing that he understood what Imrahil was trying to tell him. "You need not fear for your daughter's freedom, Prince Imrahil. It would be wrong to try to change her to a demure wife once we're wed, and I assure you that is not my intention. I must admit I fell in love with her the day I first saw her, and why would I want to change that? I assure you, my lord, you will never have to fear that Princess Lothíriel will be unhappy in her marriage. My purpose in life is to make her happy and to care for her and our children. Protect her without making her feel she cannot protect herself. If she desired the moon I would give it to her if I could. I would never do anything to make her unhappy."

Imrahil smiled. Talon's words had obviously calmed him. "That is all I can ask. My daughter is very important to me. My sons are too, of course, but a father is more protective of a daughter."

* * *

Valinea felt tears falling from her eyes. She quickly wiped them away. "I'll kill Talon before I let you marry him." 

Lothíriel smiled sadly. "You are a good friend, Val. I could never let you kill anyone for me."

"But I would," Val said. "To save you from more pain I would."

"I know. And you know I would do the same for you," Lothíriel said.

"What about Éomer?" Valinea asked.

"I would do anything for him, Val," Lothíriel said. "But I fear it is too late. Everything is too late. I lied too him. I never told him who I am, that I am to be married against my will and that…"

"You truly love him," Val stated.

"I do. I may have told him I love him, but I never told him how much."

"But are words necessary?" Val asked, taking Lothíriel's hand in her own. "They should not be. You rode to war with him because you could not bear to be parted from him. If that is not enough to show him how much you love him I do not know what is. He knows, Lothíriel."

"I hope you are right. But I am still bound to Talon by the contract. I don't know what to do." She wanted to be with Éomer, but dared not hope it would happen. She only hoped he would one day know exactly how much she loved him.

"You will not marry Talon," Valinea promised. "I will not allow it." But how she would keep her promise she did not know.

* * *

**Translations:**

Awergian ge, Éomer, ge will asecgan me – Damn you, Éomer, you will tell me  
Na dínen – Be silent  
Nae saian luume', Liriel – It has been too long, Liriel

**Starnat: **Yes, they need help. I'll just torture them a bit first. But now Lothíriel has Valinea to help her. Well, thanks for reviewing.

**Lady scribe of avandell: **Dratted Talon is back, as you can see. Great ending on your story, btw. Hope I won't use so long time to get the next chapter up. Thanks for the review.

**Skinnyrita: **Éowyn don't have to knock some sense into her brother just yet. Maybe I'll leave that to Valinea. Well, glad you liked the songs on the last chapter. I love Nightwish. In my opinion they're the best band in the entire universe. Well, enough about my music taste. Glad you reviewed. Thanks.

**Haldir's Heart and Soul: **How you missed 3 updates? I have no idea. But do you really want Lothíriel's brothers to beat up Éomer? Can't they just beat up Talon instead? Tanks for the review.

**Allie: **well, thanks for thinking my story has potential, but as for my grammar… well, I'm not perfect, and my English skills certainly aren't. But I'm from Norway, so English is not my 1st language. As for getting a beta reader… we'll see about that. I think lady scribe of avandell offered once, but in all my wisdom I forgot all about that. But thank you for reviewing.

**LothirielofGondor: **Thanks for a great review. Hopefully this chapter kept you on the edge of you seat as well.

**Georgeharrison1: **Yes, Faramir and Éowyn are very cute. There's not much of them in this story, but there's still a few things I have plans to write… Thank you so much for the review.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **Same as always…

So it's been a while since my last update, but I haven't had much inspiration to write. And I've spent almost three weeks at my grandfather's, and the man don't have internet! How frustrating! And my cousin was fixing my computer so I had to use pen and paper. And about four weeks ago I found out I got into the school I wanted! It's only about 7-8 schools in the country offering the education I want, and only fifteen students are accepted at the school I'm starting at. And when I'm done with this year it's over. NO MORE SCHOOL!

Yeah, I'm happy, but anyways, this is a fanfiction, not my damned biography! So read and please, please, please review! Only a little warning here: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES drink while reading this. Just to be on the safe side. Had a reader who experienced that drinking and reading about Gimli at the same time could have a bad outcome, so Jen, if you're still reading this: don't drink anything!

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 18**

Éomer of Rohan and his company had been expected to arrive several hours ago, but still the Rohirrim had not been seen approaching the City. The feast had been prepared and Merethrond was filled with the royalty and nobility from Gondor and Dol Amroth, and Elves from Rivendell and Lothlórien. The dinner was yet to be served, for King Elessar waited in the longest for Éomer to arrive, hoping it would not be long until he did. The guests were being served wine while they waited.

King Elessar sat on his throne, having received word from his scout that the Rohirrim would be arriving about early afternoon; however they had not, and now was early evening. He hoped nothing had befallen them on the road, but that he could hardly imagine, knowing Éomer's skills and bravery in battle. And what could possibly happen to them? The war was over after all; however it was difficult to imagine what could have delayed the company from Rohan so.

"What can we possibly be waiting for?" Talon asked his brother in a low voice. Arlos was four years younger than Talon and had arrived three nights earlier, to represent their house at the court. Talon could have done it, although since he had spent most of his time in Dol Amroth, their father had decided to send Arlos to represent their family. Talon was there as a member of Prince Imrahil's company.

Arlos looked at his brother. "Why, the King of Rohan and his company hadn't you heard?"

Talon cast his brother an annoyed, sideways glance. "Really, no I hadn't," he answered sarcastically.

"I never imagined you to be so impatience, brother," Arlos remarked.

"I merely wish for the pagans to arrive so we can get this over with," Talon defended himself. "This is a feast to honour the King of Rohan? Ridiculous!"

"Is he yet crowned?" Arlos asked. "And by the way how can you say they are pagans? They share our belief in the Valar."

"How would you know, little brother?" Talon asked. "The Rohirrim is nothing but a people of barbarians and heathens. Believe in nothing but their swords and horses and the valour of dying in battle by the hand of your enemy. I tell you, Arlos, they cannot compare to us noble people of Gondor."

"I don't think they have any wish to do so either, Talon," Arlos said. "From what I hear they are very proud of their heritage, their country and history. And who can hold that against them? Being as the people of Gondor is presumably not high on their list of wishes. Gondor has just recently been blessed with the return of a king after years of being lead by the line of the stewards after the last king died. Rohan has, after all, had a king ever since Eorl rode south and his people took Rohan as their own land."

"I see you have made a point of knowing their history," Talon said, not hiding how displeased he was with his brother's comments.

"It is good someone still knows it here in the south,"a voice said and Legolas Greenleaf approached the brothers. The Elf smiled at the younger brother. "I am Legolas of Mirkwood. It pleases me to know that some hold our friends in Rohan still in high regard and that it has not been forgotten they aided Gondor not just on the fields of Pelennor, but also when Eorl the Young aided the Steward of Gondor so long ago."

"Glory and victory is always remembered, but often one only remembers what one's own people achieved. It is important that we do not forget that without the aid of others we would not be here today to tell about it," he smiled. "I am Arlos of Lebinnin, my lord; Lord Talon here is my brother."

"An honour to meet you, Lord Arlos, and you are so right. To remember one's own history it is important to remember the history of out allies and friends as well," Legolas said.

"Yes, although I am afraid many have already forgotten that, as my brother is such a fine example of," Arlos said, rolling his eyes in a rather undignified manner. Instead of pursuing the subject of his brother, who was standing next to him, he decided to ask Legolas some questions. "Master Elf, do you know the Rohirrim?"

Legolas nodded. "I spent time in Rohan during the War, and King Éomer is a personal friend of mine."

"So then he is crowned?" Arlos asked.

"No, but if you will accompany the funeral escort of King Théoden, you will see how the Rohirrim honour their dead and the grand crowning of a new king," Legolas said.

Arlos smiled. "Then I am glad that my father instructed me to show the proper respect to the fallen king and be in the company that escorts him to his own land. Such a king who led his army to the fields of Pelennor to aid us in our hour of need is indeed worth our respect."

"Yes, of course my brother is correct," Talon said, taking a drink from a servant who passed by. "I apologize for my words earlier, Master Elf, but this waiting wears on me; an old injury in my leg that makes it tiring to stand for long periods of time."

Legolas looked at him. "Then maybe you should sit down." He turned at the younger brother again. "It was my pleasure to speak with you, Lord Arlos, but I fear I was really on my way to speak to King Elessar." He bowed and left towards the window where King Elessar was staring out on the City.

"An old injury?" Arlos looked at his brother. "Tell me, dear brother, when was you in war?"

Talon decided to only glare at his brother, hoping that would be enough to silence the younger man.

"As you wish," Arlos said with a shake of his head. "I think I shall see if I can find my future sister-in-law." He looked at Talon with a disgusted expression. "The girl you will soon make the must unhappiest in all Middle-earth."

"Do as you wish, Arlos, for that is what you will do no matter what I have to say about it," Talon said and glared at the retreating back of his brother.

* * *

Another hour went by and at last King Elessar ordered the dinner to be served, deciding it to be unreasonable to let his guests starve. He also sent out riders to scout for Éomer and his men. 

Before a half hour had passed a servant approached the King. She bowed low before she spoke so only the King and the few sitting near him heard her. "My lord, King Éomer of Rohan has arrived."

"I must speak with him at once," Aragorn said.

The servant nodded. "He and his men is still in the stables, my lord."

* * *

"Helmling, when the night grows old and dawn approaches take some men and stand watch over the fallen until the hour of departure is upon us," Éomer ordered and Helmling nodded. "Until then you and the men you have chosen are wise to get some rest." 

"Yes, my lord," Helmling said. "And may I suggest that rest is something we all need before the time ahead." He took five men with him whom would watch over the fallen king in the early hours before they would leave the White City.

A servant entered the stables and approached Éomer. "My lord," he bowed. "I am here to escort you to your chambers and to inform you that King Elessar wishes you join the feast as soon as you are ready."

"Yes, lead the way," Éomer said and looked at Éothain. "Meet me there, or I swear I will slay you with my own sword."

Éothain grinned. "Oh, I assure you, my lord, to see you mingling with the fine folk of Gondor I would not miss for all the horses in Rohan."

"On second thought I will slay you if you turn up," Éomer mumbled as he left the stables.

* * *

A herald announced that Éomer of Rohan had arrived as Éomer entered Merethrond. Some looked up to see his arrival, some continued with their meal. As Éomer made his way to King Elessar, he noticed Faramir, Steward of Gondor, looking up from his conversation with the Hobbit, Peregrin Took, when Éomer's arrival had been announced. Éomer also noticed the three princes of Dol Amroth, each greeting him with a short nod. Imrahil was smiling broadly, also bowing his head in greeting. 

Éomer's heart almost stopped beating as he recognized Lothíriel, sitting between Erchirion and another man whom Éomer did not know, but who was probably her betrothed; the man who had the place in Lothíriel's life that should have been his.

Éomer rid himself of such thoughts, telling himself that he really never had a place in Lothíriel's life, that it was only an adventure, a distant memory, one that would soon be forgotten. But he knew he was lying to himself. It was like a knife in his heart knowing she would be someone else's wife, and it was a pain he would carry with him for the rest of his life. He turned his gaze away, noting instead the other guests, among them all the Hobbits, Gimli and Legolas and the other Elven lords and ladies.

Lothíriel dared looking up when she was certain Éomer was not looking in her direction. Across the table she saw Valinea giving her a sad, but encouraging smile.

Éomer and Aragorn greeted each other, and Éomer briefly explained why their arrival at the White City had been delayed; a young, inexperienced horse had stumbled and broken his leg, which forced two riders to share a horse, which slowed their pace. They had taken the horse to Minas Tirith, but were unable to take it back with them to Rohan when the funeral escort was to depart.

"We will lend your rider a horse for your journey back to Rohan and of course you may leave the horse here and our best stable boys will tend to it," Aragorn said.

"I thank you for your offer," Éomer said, bowing his head in appreciation.

"Now, my friend let me introduce you to my wife, Arwen Undómiel," Aragorn smiled at his wife, and now that Éomer really looked at Queen Arwen his first thought was how her hair reminded him of the long, raven hair of Lothíriel.

"I am honoured to meet you, my lady," Éomer said, kissing her hand. "My apologies for being unable to attend your wedding, but matters in my own country needed my attention."

Queen Arwen smiled. "The honour is mine, Lord Éomer." Her voice was soft, melodious, so unlike Lothíriel's voice that was like the waves clashing against the beach of Dol Amroth, like the wind ripping in the grass on the plains of Rohan. Her voice shifted with her moods. He had heard her speak softly when she told him about her mother, he had heard her voice slurred with drunkenness, he had heard her tell him boldly that she would not allow him go to Gondor without her, her voice angry when she argued her case and a second later she had told him in a whisper that she loved him. He had heard her cry _death_ with them as they charged across the field of Pelennor after finding his uncle and sister.

Éomer did not know how long he'd stood there, lost in his own thoughts, but he noticed Aragorn looking at him with an odd expression, and sometimes he noticed the Queen glancing his way after he had taken his seat at the table to the left of Aragorn. Sometimes he looked discreetly in Lothíriel's direction, but averted his gaze before anyone noticed.

Soon it was time to dance. Couples moved onto the dance floor, musicians started playing and young women waited expectantly for handsome, young men to ask them for a dance. Others, such as Princess Lothíriel, would do anything in the world to get away from the feast and the dancing. It were expected that she dance with her betrothed, the Lord Talon of Lebinnin, but the Princess of Dol Amroth wanted the night to end without any dancing or interaction or even a glance in Talon's direction.

* * *

Faramir, Steward of Gondor, former Ranger of Ithilien, was more nervous than he was during his first battle or the first time he's led people into battle. He'd never been this nervous even during one of his father's reprimands. His heart was beating five times faster than normal and his hands were sweating. 

He had debated with himself when it was a good time to approach Éomer of Rohan, a man he did not know and he could not tell how he was going to react to what Faramir wanted to ask him. Two times he had started walking against the man who held the power to make him the happiest man in Middle-earth, or destroy his life. Two times he had started walking across the room, and two times he'd ended up turning round and making his way back to where he came from. Now he was leaning against the wall and watching Éomer across the room, filling his mug with ale.

"What are we looking at?"

Faramir recognized the voice immediately and did not even bother to look down at Pippin. "You know Éomer of Rohan, do you not?" Faramir asked, watching as the subject of his inquiry talked to his cousin Elphir.

"Well, to say that I know him would be to take it a bit far, but I've met him, yes, although I haven't spoken to him much. Why do you ask about Lord Éomer?" Pippin asked.

"What do you think of him?" Faramir asked.

"Well, as I said I've only met him on a few occasions, but… well, what I think of him?" Pippin repeated the question. "Well, he's a warrior. He's been that all his life, I heard. I heard someone say he was born with a sword in his hand, but of course that isn't possible." He laughed, but suddenly became serious. "Well, what was I saying? Oh, yes, what I think of him, right? Well, he's brave, proud and a very good soldier. But I think he's a good man, you know, deep down." Faramir's mind was eased a little at those words. If Pippin thought he was a good man, he would surely also be a fair man. "But he's fiercely protective of Lady Éowyn, his sister." Faramir's hopes came clashing down. "What I heard in Rohan is that once he cut a man's… well, you know…"

"What?" Faramir looked at the Hobbit. "He cut a man?"

"No, he cut off a man's… his… you know, his…" Pippin lowered his voice and Faramir had to bend down to hear him. "He cut of a man his lower parts for making some remarks about his sister."

"You mean..?" Faramir looked shocked.

"But that is only something I heard, don't know if it's true or not," Pippin said. "So why do you ask about Lord Éomer anyway?"

"Oh, no reason," Faramir answered nonchalantly. "I was simply inquiring about our allies."

"Oh, if you say so," Pippin said, shrugging. "I thought perhaps it was because you wanted to ask Lord Éomer's permission to marry Éowyn."

Faramir looked surprised at Pippin, unable to reply.

Pippin smiled. "He's a good man, you know. Just ask Merry. And that thing about him cutting… well, I was only jesting, to see if my suspicions were right. I do sincerely apologize for that."

"Apology accepted, my friend," Faramir said. "I must admit I was concerned there for a minute."

Pippin grinned. "So I saw. But why haven't you talked to Éomer yet?"

"I suppose the correct answer would be that I am concerned," Faramir said.

"Concerned about what? I was only joking about Éomer cutting off a man's… well, why would you be concerned? He's a reasonable man, I'm sure he will do what's best for his sister," Pippin said.

"But perhaps his opinion what is best for his sister may not be in my favour," Faramir said.

"Well, you'll never know until you've asked," Pippin said. "So why don't you just get it over with and go ask him?"

Faramir smiled. "Thank you, Pippin."

Éomer was still speaking with Elphir when Faramir approached. "Lord Éomer, may I have a word with you?" Faramir asked.

"I think I shall go and seek out my wife," Elphir said before Éomer could answer.

Éomer nodded to Elphir and turned his attention to Faramir. "Perhaps we shall go outside?"

Faramir nodded his agreement and the two of them left Merethrond, going outside. "I am uncertain how to approach this subject, my lord," Faramir started as they walked.

"I suggest you speak what is on your mind, Steward," Éomer said.

"Yes," Faramir stopped walking, looking at Éomer. "I would like to ask your permission to wed your sister, Lady Éowyn."

Éomer looked at him. "And why is that?"

"I love her, my lord. I love her with all my heart and I wish to be with her for the rest of my life. She have already given her consent to be my wife, but as the laws demand I must first ask her closest male kin for permission to wed her before I can do so. I truly do love her, and all I wish is to make her the happiest woman in both Gondor and Rohan," Faramir said. "My lord, Rohan will forever be her home and she may return to Edoras whenever she desire. I fell in love with her spirit, her inner beauty, not only her outer beauty. Her spirit is of Rohan and I could never change that, even if I wished. I would rather die than see any hurt befall her."

Éomer seemed to think about what he had said. "Do you know what my sister fear most of all? A cage. She fears to lose her freedom, to be locked inside with no choices of her own to make. During the dark days she tended to our uncle who had fallen ill under the spell of Saruman and Wormtongue. She lived in a shadow. Though Théoden was still king, Wormtongue was the one who ruled Edoras. While I was in battle each day, slaying Orcs and Uruk-hai, she was the one forced to stay behind to care for an old man who no longer knew who she was but whom she loved like a father and whom had once loved her like a daughter. She was caged, with no means of escape, and Wormtongue haunted her every step, wishing for her to be his own. Too much grief has she experienced. So much grief and so little happiness. I must be certain that what I decide is the best for her, which is why I have one thing to ask you." Faramir nodded. "Do you have a cook?"

The question was so unexpected that Faramir was certain he had heard wrong. "I must have heard wrong, my lord. What did you say?"

"Éowyn cannot cook even if her life depended on it. I am aware it is common that noble women in Gondor do not cook themselves, but I felt I must warn you, as it is possible that Éowyn may want to prepare a meal for you one time. Under no circumstances must you allow her access to the kitchen. Your life depends on it, and I will hate to see my sister a widow because her cooking killed her husband." Éomer smiled slightlyas he looked at the disbelieving face of the Steward of Gondor. "Must I spell it out to you, Steward? You have my permission to wed my sister."

Faramir's face broke into a wide smile. "I… I do not know what to say, my lord."

"Make my sister happy, Faramir of Gondor. That is all I ask," Éomer said.

"Thank you, King Éomer," Faramir said, bowing.

"There are a few things we need to discuss, and one of them is your ridiculous bowing," Éomer said.

* * *

Lothíriel was taking a walk in the garden, finally alone having disappeared without anyone noticing her. The gardens were peaceful, allowing her to pretend for a moment that the world was a perfect place and that nothing bad could happen. Of course that was until she saw Éomer standing alone under a tree. He saw her too and their eyes met. Only the Valar knew how long they stood there, looking at each other with eyes filled with sorrow and longing. 

Lothíriel took a deep breath and approached him. He still stood there, not moving, watching her every move as she approached, wanting to touch her, but forced himself not to.

"Éomer…" his name was but a whisper from her lips. Still he did not answer. The safest thing was a tactical retreat, but his legs would not move. "Éomer, I… I am so sorry. For everything, I…"

"Safe your breath, Princess, there is nothing you can say that I wish to hear," Éomer said.

"I am truly sorry, Éomer. I wish things were different."

"But they are not. Let us leave the past behind us and continue with our lives. Yours is in Dol Amroth with your husband, mine is in Edoras, alone," Éomer said.

"He is _not _my husband," Lothíriel said angrily.

Éomer nodded. "But he will be one day." He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "I loved you. I was foolish enough to believe you did the same."

"I did. I do. Éomer, I truly do love you," Lothíriel said.

"I wish I could believe that," Éomer said. "Princess… Lothíriel, I wish you all the happiness he can give you." He walked past her and Lothíriel grabbed his arm.

"I love _you, _Éomer."

Éomer looked at her, looked deep into her eyes, and he saw no lie. "You belong to another, Lothíriel. You and I can never be." And he left her then, forcing himself to appear calm, even as his heart was telling him to turn round, take her into his arms and take her to his own land and make her his queen, with no consideration of the consequences, even if it meant war with Dol Amroth and Gondor.

And Lothíriel stood under the tree, alone, forcing her tears back as she watched him leave.

* * *

"My steward, Lord Alheon, have often ruled Dol Amroth in my absence, especially during the War when my sons and I have been away. My daughter…" Imrahil sighed. "Yes, my daughter. Let it suffice to say that she was away for a time as well. So Dol Amroth has been in the capable hands of Lord Alheon and Lady Mariel for some time, and with no doubt shall still be in capable hands until my family and I return." 

Aragorn smiled. "I am certain you will find your city in an even better state than when you left it."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Imrahil said with a smile. "I look forward to returning home. No place is dearer in a man's heart than his family and the place he calls his home, or wouldn't you say, Éomer?" When his question received no answer, the Prince looked to the left to find the youngest of the three monarchs obviously lost in his own thoughts, staring at his hands that rested on the table in front of them.

"Éomer?" Aragorn questioned, looking at his friend, but the lack of reaction from the younger man had him worried. For as long as he'd known Éomer, the man had never lost himself in thought. Whether he reflected on his sudden kingship or if there was something else troubling him, Aragorn couldn't tell.

Imrahil nudged the younger man, and Éomer looked at him with eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Is all well, my friend?" Imrahil asked.

"All is well," Éomer confirmed. "Why do you ask?"

"You seemed to be lost within your own mind," Aragorn said.

"Oh." That was the only reply Éomer could think of at the moment. If they knew where his thoughts had wandered he was sure Imrahil would wish to have him thrown into the deepest dungeon he could find and Aragorn… well, what Aragorn would do or think he did not know.

"Are you certain all is well?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, of course," Éomer answered, but his voice held no conviction, even to his own ears.

Imrahil wanted to pursue the subject further, convinced his young friend was not telling the truth, but what right had he, other than a friend, to demand Éomer to tell him what was troubling him? Instead he spied two men approaching the table.

Talon and Arlos bowed.

"Excuse me, my lords, but you have not by any chance seen the Lady Lothíriel?" Arlos asked. "It seems my brother have somehow lost his betrothed during the night."

And with those words Éomer's worst nightmare was confirmed. The man he's seen earlier next to Lothíriel was indeed her future husband.

Imrahil replied that he hadn't seen his daughter for some time, but he was not too worried about it. "Lord Éomer, this is Lord Talon of Lebinnin, betrothed to my daughter, Lothíriel, and this is his brother, Lord Arlos," Imrahil said. "Talon, Lord Arlos, this is Éomer King of Rohan."

Talon looked at the horse-lord, not attempting to hide his disgust. He had always believed the people of Rohan to be barbarians, a people worth neither friendship nor acknowledgement. But this was not the place for such thoughts, seeing as this horse-lord was a dear friend to his future father-in-law, and he was also a dear friend to the King of Gondor, and Talon was wise enough to know now was not the time to make any enemies. Talon bowed, noting with distaste that this man, this _barbarian_, before him held a title higher than his own. "I am honoured to meet you, King of Rohan."

Éomer nodded stiffly in reply, seeing right through the mask of this Gondorian. His dislike for the man only grew. His eyes reminded Éomer of the eyes of the traitor Gríma Wormtongue; his voice was different, more that of a nobleman and not a man who lived in the shadows, sneaking around and whispering in the ear of a sick, old man, but Éomer was certain this snake had a tongue just as poisonous as Wormtongue. Éomer had no intention of hiding his dislike for Talon of Lebinnin, which was why he did not reply to Lord Talon's greeting. Imrahil took obviously no notice of this, as he continued talking to Talon, saying that his daughter had most likely only gone outside to get some air. Aragorn however was noticing Éomer's curt manner and the way he glared at the man. Wondering what reason Éomer could have to dislike Lord Talon so; Aragorn started watching the younger man more closely over the next few weeks.

* * *

As the feast drove to an end, Gimli the Dwarf approached Éomer. "Good evening, horse-master. Before we go to rest there are certain rash words that were spoken on the plains of Rohan during our first meeting as I recall, and I think the time has come for us to settle them." 

"Indeed I believe you are right," Éomer said, recalling the words and when they were spoken. "So, Gimli Glóin's son, have you your axe ready?"

"Nay, lord, but I can speedily fetch it, if there be need," Gimli said.

"You shall judge," Éomer said. "For as you said there are certain rash words concerning the Lady in the Golden Wood that still lie between us."

"And now you have seen her with your own eyes," Gimli said. "Well, lord, what say you now?"

For a second Éomer saw Lothíriel's face before him, her green eyes sparkling and her sweet lips in a joyful smile, her raven hair falling in waves down her shoulders. He also recalled how Queen Arwen's hair reminded him of Lothíriel's. "Alas, I will not say that she is the fairest lady that lives." For how could he lie? Lady Galadriel was indeed very beautiful, but in his opinion no woman could compare to Lothíriel.

"Then I must go for my axe," Gimli said standing up, ready to leave and Éomer did not doubt the Dwarf would return with axe in hand.

"But first I will plead this excuse." Éomer said and the Dwarf stopped, looking at him. "Had I seen her in other company, I would have said all that you could wish. But now I will put Queen Arwen Evenstar first." As the words left his mouth his mind and heart protested violently, screaming out Lothíriel's name, but he pushed his feelings aside. "And I am ready to do battle on my own part with any who deny me. Shall I call for my sword?"

Then Gimli bowed low. "Nay, you are excused for my part, lord. You have chosen the Evening; but my love is given to the Morning. And my heart forebodes that soon it will pass away for ever."

The Evening, the darkness, was what he had chosen. But as Gimli believed the Morning would soon pass away for ever, Éomer knew that the Evening had already passed, leaving only darkness.

Gimli sat down again. "So I guess you can like both then, lord."

Now Éomer could only send him a puzzled look, having no idea what the Dwarf spoke of. "Like both what?" He asked.

"Well, men and women, of course," Gimli answered.

Éomer's expression only became more confused. "Master Dwarf, you have me at a loss. What is it you speak of?"

Gimli's big eyebrows lifted. It seemed like Éomer had no idea what he was speaking of. Well, he would have to remind him then. "You can like both men and women."

Simple words, but still Éomer could not understand their meaning. "Gimli, my friend, speak plainer."

"How much plainer can one speak, lord?" Gimli asked. "You find women attractive, do you not?"

"Of course, is there not a time all men have fallen into the net of a woman?" Éomer asked, taking a drink of the wine he had been drowning in misery before Gimli had approached him.

"But you're also attracted to men."

Éomer coughed violently, trying to breath, staring at the Dwarf who was now covered in wine from head to toe. Nothing could have prepared him for those words. He still tried to clear his airways while trying to ask Gimli what he had said. "What… do…" he coughed.

Gimli looked at Éomer with a very confused expression. "What happened, Éomer?" He asked, using his hands to dry his face.

"What the hell… did you just say?" Éomer asked.

"I asked what…"

"No, no, what did you say about that… thing."

Realization hit him. "Oh, I simply said you're also attracted to men." After thinking about it ever since Dunharrow, Gimli decided that Éomer was his friend and that he probably could get used to his friend's strange habits. It couldn't be that hard to accept. _Could it?_

"What in the name of Bema made you say that? It's ridiculous!" Éomer said, trying to check his anger. Who in the name of Bema could have said something like that about him? He knew it wasn't a member of his éored. They were fiercely loyal to him and most of them knew about his past relationship with Lothíriel, although none had said they knew except for Éothain. He mentally made up a list of people who hated him enough to start a rumour like that.

"Oh, but your secret is safe with me, Lord Éomer, fear not for that," Gimli said. "I will take the secret with me to my grave."

"It's not true, who told you something like this?" Éomer questioned. "There is no secret to be kept safe, Gimli. These accusations are without grounds, you may say that to whoever told you these lies."

"No one told me, lord, I saw it with my own eyes," Gimli said.

"You saw what?" Éomer shouted attracting the attention of the few whom where still left in the hall. He quieted himself. "You saw what?" he repeated.

"You have not forgotten, have you?" Gimli asked. "Tell me not that the lad fell?"

"What lad?" Éomer asked frustrated. "Is this a prank? If it is it is not at all amusing."

"The lad I saw you kissing in the stables!" Gimli's voice boomed across the hall, drawing the attention of the servant left in there. All other guests had retired to their chambers.

Éomer groaned. "What the hell are you speaking of?" he asked; his patience now as thin as paper. Not only that, Gimli's outburst had caused the people in the hall to look at them. Éomer was tired, angry, annoyed and frustrated.

"You kissed…"

"Please speak up a little louder; I do not believe they heard you in Harad," Éomer said.

Gimli looked at him for a second, and then looked at his feet. He had publicly humiliated a king! _Oh, I'll never leave the Lonely Mountain ever again if I survive this!_

"First of all, whatever you believe you saw, or whatever you have heard, are lies. I have never nor will I ever kiss a man. Do you even know how disgusting that sounds? I don't know how it is with Dwarves…"

"Dwarf men do not like other Dwarf men!" Gimli protested.

"Fine, but neither does the Rohirrim!" Éomer said. "Oh, this is ridiculous. I'm not even going to defend myself from such a baseless accusation."

"So I can tell Legolas and Aragorn that you're not attracted to men?" Gimli asked.

Éomer stared at him, unable to reply. Gimli had said he saw him kiss a boy in the stables. The stables at Edoras? Suddenly it hit him, and Éomer could not help himself. He started laughing. The more he thought about it the more amusing he found the entire situation, and the more he laughed. He laughed so hard that when he saw the utterly confused expression on Gimli's face, mixed with uncertainty and apparently fear, he was certain he would die as he tried to catch his breath. "Oh, Gimli, I fear you have misunderstood all, my friend."

"I have misunderstood?" Gimli asked.

"Indeed you have," Éomer replied, chuckling.

"What is so amusing?" Gimli asked, getting frustrated, because he found nothing about the situation amusing.

"It is not important, my friend," Éomer replied. "I think I shall retire now. I bid you a good night, Gimli." And with that he left, the image of Lothíriel in full armour and a cloak hiding her face burned into his mind.

* * *

**lady scribe of avandell: **Well, who actually likes Talon? He's a bastard, and one of the worst. But I wrote him so I could hate someone else than Wormtongue. Now that was a son-of-a-bitch who could not be trusted! Well, as for ways to get her out of the whole marriage with Talon… well, you'll just have to wait and see;o) 

**LothirielofGondor: **Who will get to Talon first, or whom will Talon get to first? Now that's a question, isn't it? But I'm not gonna tell! All I can say is that this gets worse before it gets better! But it will get better. Well, thanks for reviewing;p

**Wondereye: **You have to wait a bit for Talon to show his true, evil self, but he doesn't like Éomer or Rohan much, does he? And he doesn't even bother to hide it! Stupid man! Doesn't he know that Éomer has a really sharp sword somewhere in his room? It'll be a lot more confrontations between the two of them in the future!

**Skinnyrita: **Having Éomer kill Talon would be lots of fun! But having him kill him yet would just ruin the story. Who would be the big bad guy then? Thanks for reviewing;o)

Four reviews? What's that all about? BTW what do you think about Arlos?


	20. Author's note

**Author's note:**

I know it's been a while since I've updated, and people are getting impatient. I had some trouble with my laptop, and for about 4 weeks ago I sent it to be repaired. The only thing that's wrong is that the cable which provides the machine with poweris ruined, and I have to wait until they get me a new one. Of course that's over 4 weeks ago, and I've called several times, trying to speed things up. I wonder what the hell is taking so long. Sending a part to my laptop shouldn't take so damn long. After all, Norway is not _that_ big!

So I'm redused to writing the upcoming chapter in a highly old-fashioned manner: pen and paper. And I do write, it will just take a while for me to update, since I have to write the chapter on a computer as well, and I'm sure more ideas will come to mind as I sit down before my beloved (hated) laptop again. But I will update as soon as humanly possible.

And let me take this opportunity to thank you all for your support and encouragement. 101 reviews! Wow, thanks;o)

And for you who have noticed, yes, I changed my name. If you're curious to why I did it you can check my profile.

VinterNatt

P.S. i decided to give the chapters names, mainly because I was fixing some things on some of the chapters (you know, like grammar mistakes and things like that) so I had to give the chapters names so it wouldn't be so confusing all the time. Also I know how hard it can be to remember what chapter you read last when it's marely named by numbers.


	21. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **Don't own them. Wish I did, but I don't. Ah, well.

**Author's note: **I was aiming to update before Christmas, but events outside my control saw to it that I didn't finish the chapter. And since we can no longer reply to reviews in the updates I won't be able to reply to those who reviewed anonymously. But I appreciate all reviews, so don't stop with that! Thanks to all of you!

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 19**

19 days after leaving Minas Tirith, Éomer once again gazed upon the proud city of Edoras, his home, the capital of the country of which he was now king. He was impatient to see Meduseld again, yet not for the reasons one might think. He simply wished to get away from the other people travelling with him in the funeral escort. Ever since the feast Gimli had been avoiding him and sending him strange looks, however Éomer did not think Gimli had told anyone of their little talk. Although he had his doubts that the conversation had gone unnoticed by some, in particular Aragorn and Legolas, but he had a feeling that also Éothain had heard of it, though none of them had mentioned anything.

Also travelling with them was Lothíriel, accompanying her father to Rohan to represent the royal family of Dol Amroth. Of Prince Imrahil's family only his daughter and youngest son had accompanied them, but of course to Éomer's great irritation both Lord Talon and his younger brother, Arlos, was part of Imrahil's company. It was getting harder and harder to look upon Lothíriel and not being able to talk to her or touch her. It had become hard to be near her, yet so far away. He had successfully avoided her since their encounter in the garden at the feast, but he could not say it was an easy task. Everywhere he looked he was somehow reminded of her. Sometimes he found her watching him. There were even times Éothain had mentioned her name, a few of those times just pointing out what a fool Éomer was for not fighting for her. Éomer could not disagree, but he was hardly going to admit to anyone, not even himself, that his friend was correct.

To add to the list of people Éomer had tried to avoid since their departure from the White City was Imrahil himself. Discussing political matters were one thing, but whenever he was in the company of the Prince he was in danger of showing too many feelings when the name of Lothíriel was mentioned.

It was not only to get away from certain people that Éomer was eager to return to Edoras. It was his home, and he was sick and tired of travelling between Gondor and Rohan. Gondor had many attributes to be certain, but Éomer didn't feel particularly comfortable in large cities of stone. Minas Tirith was a magnificent city, marvellous and held a beauty like no other city Éomer had ever seen, but he much preferred the simple beauty of Edoras. The capital of Rohan was much less formal than the capital of Gondor. The poor lived side by side with the rich, and those minor differences didn't matter.

What Éomer had noticed when he was in Edoras to prepare for his uncle's funeral was how every citizen of his city seemed to help each other. They were lacking enough food to feed the people, for not to mention all those who had taken refugee there, but those who had food had always given it to those who had none. They shared it, so that none would go hungry for a long period of time.

"It is good to be back, wouldn't you say?"

Éomer looked to his right and saw Éothain having ridden up next to him on the small hill, looking at the city with a look which must have resembled the one he wore a few moments before.

Éomer gave his friend half a smile. "Éothain, once my foot touched the soil of Rohan the very day we crossed the border, I promised myself to never leave this country again. Unless there is a very good reason for doing so, of course," he added, just so he would not have to break his own word whenever Aragorn called upon him or he wished to visit his sister once she was wed.

Éothain laughed. "Well, my friend, let's hope that after a long time of travel, we will always be able to return to gaze upon this beautiful sight," he gestured to the city.

"Then speak no more of the beauty of Edoras, my friend, for we shall ride and be in the city before the sun has travelled any lower on the sky."

And the two of them rode, followed by the escort of Théoden King, and the Rohirrim broke into song, even those who were wounded in the battle and were now forced to ride in wagons, when they came closer to Edoras, the heart of Rohan.

* * *

Nine mounds, nine kings. Seven more mounds, seven more kings. All the kings from Eorl to Thengel lay here and now Théoden King would rest with them, in the mound which was added to the line where the seven kings rested. It was with a heavy heart that Éomer realised that upon his own death, a new line would be started, and there he would rest alone until the day his own son died and was buried in a mound next to his, all mounds covered with simbelmynë, white as the whitest snow. 

Éomer let his gaze travel over the mounds where his forefathers rested. In his mind he pictured Eorl the Young leading his people from the north and to this land which would be the home of the Éothéod, the people who would be known as the Rohirrim or the Eorlingas, as they called themselves. He thought of Brego who built the Golden Hall of Meduseld, and of Helm Hammerhand, the last king of the first line, and of all the other kings of Rohan, and wondered if he would ever live up to their expectations.

There was now eight mounds on the east side of the Barrowfield. Riders of the King's House rode round about the barrow on white horses, and they sang a song of Théoden, made by his minstrel who made no other song after.

The slow voices of the Riders stirred the hearts even of those who did not know the speech of the Rohirrim, but the words of the song brought a light to the eyes of the folk of the Mark as they heard again afar the thunder of hooves of the North and the voice of Eorl crying above the battle upon the Field of Celebrant; and the tale of the kings rolled on.

And even as the voices of the Riders died away, the song did not end. Éomer and Éowyn, brother and sister, nephew and niece of the King, sang of the man they both had loved as a father, as he rode through the shadow to the fire, and died there on the Field of Pelennor, the sun again returning, gleaming upon the Mindolluin in the morning. And if the singing of the Riders stirred the hearts of all who heard; the singing of Théoden's niece and nephew touched the very soul of every person present, bringing forth a few tears from people grieving the death of their King.

* * *

The Golden Hall had never seen such a feast since the days of its building as the funeral feast of Théoden King. Not only was the people of Rohan well represented among the nobility, not that it were all that many nobles in Rohan, and soldiers, farmers and common-folks, but the hall was filled with nobility and royalty of Gondor and Dol Amroth, and Elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien, for not to mention the Elf Legolas of Mirkwood, which was now called Eryn Lasgalen the Wood of Greenleeaves, and the Dwarf Gimli of the Lonely Mountains, and the four Hobbits of the Shire. 

The Princess of Dol Amroth sat on a bench by the wall, hiding, though she was not willing to admit it. Talon had been looking at her all night and it made her sick. What she truly wanted was to be wrapped in the arms of the man she loved, although this seemed naught more than a dream. He could not stand the sight of her, and she was to be another man's wife. It was truly hopeless.

"Lothíriel!" Éowyn came to her across the hall, a bright smile upon her lovely face.

"Éowyn," Lothíriel smiled. "What is it with that smile? It seems like Faramir has just promised you the moon and the stars."

The White Lady smiled dreamingly in response. "Were it possible to give someone the moon and the stars I am quite sure Faramir would have done so. But no, Faramir has made me no such promise."

"Then what is it that keeps you smiling so?" the Princess asked the woman she now considered a friend.

"My brother," Éowyn answered, smiling even brighter if possible. "Éomer just informed me he wishes to make my betrothal to Faramir official, before the end of the feast. I can hardly believe it."

"Oh, this is wonderful, Éowyn," Lothíriel smiled brightly and took her hands. "Soon I will have a new cousin." The two friends laughed together.

It was not long before Éomer appeared once again in the hall, and after a short conversation with Aragorn he rose. "Now this is the funeral feast of Théoden King," he said, "but I will speak ere we go of tidings of joy, for he would not grudge that I should do so, since he was ever a father of Éowyn my sister. Hear then all my guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing." As he spoke his gaze had travelled to Lothíriel. She stood with her brother, looking as beautiful as ever, but he could see a well hidden sorrow within her. Her heart was breaking. His was as well, and deep within he hoped their hearts were breaking for the same reason. He ripped his eyes away, and instead looked at his sister, who was sitting near him, unshed tears of happiness glittering in her eyes and a wonderful smile grazing her lips, and to Éomer his beloved sister had never seemed happier. He smiled gently as he nodded for her to stand next to him. "Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all," he finished and nodded to Faramir, who then came to them and Éomer put his sister's hand in Faramir's. Faramir bowed his head in gratitude, but his eyes never left his betrothed's. Éomer took a step back.

"Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn!" someone called out, Gamling most likely, and all there drank to them and were glad.

"Thus is the friendship of the Mark and of Gondor bound with a new bond, and the more do I rejoice," Éomer said.

"No niggard are you, Éomer," Aragorn said with a smile, "to give thus to Gondor the fairest thing in your realm!"

"As if I truly have a choice!" Éomer exclaimed in mock horror, taking his seat next to his fellow monarch. "This is the only way I can protect myself from the harm that would have been inflicted upon me." This said in total seriousness.

"Faramir has not threatened you with harm?" Imrahil asked horrified, looking at his nephew who was seated between Aragorn and Éowyn.

"Faramir? No of course not. I was talking about Éowyn."

* * *

The feast was over and Éowyn wanted to speak with her brother before she went to bed, and she saw him standing near the doors. His eyes were intense, dark with some emotion she could not immediately identify. She followed his line of sight and was surprised when she saw Lothíriel with her friend Valinea, being escorted out of the Hall by Lothíriel's brother. 

Éowyn looked back at her brother, surprised at what she saw in his eyes; desire. Yet she saw something deeper, something darker lurking beneath the surface. The minute the Princess disappeared from sight, Éomer's expression changed. He seemed sad, defeated, as if there was no hope left for him. He carried a heavy burden upon his shoulders; a burden which should never have been his to bear. But was it the burden of kinship that made him seem so defeated or was it something else?

Éowyn was asking herself this question when she snapped back to reality by the doors closing suddenly. Swiftly she crossed the room, opening the doors and seeing Éomer walking down the path, unaware of her following him. He went round a corner and she lost sight of him, but that did not concern her. It was only one place that path would lead him, and that was not to the old seamstress Borghild that lived in a small house at the end of that path. With absolute certainty of where her brother had wandered off to, Éowyn hurried down to the stables.

She found him in Firefoot's stall, his back towards her, speaking softly to the stallion.

"It would be so bloody simple to run my sword through him, but I'm no mere soldier anymore. I am a king, and I doubt that causing war between the Mark and Gondor will be a very noble act."

"I hope it is not my betrothed you are planning to run through, for then you would not only have a war with Gondor on your hands," Éowyn said, hands resting on her hips.

"Éowyn!" he whipped round in surprise, staring at her. "I did not hear you."

"No, that is obvious. You would not have been plotting with your horse to go to war with Gondor if you knew I was here," Éowyn said. "And who are you planning to run your sword through?"

"No one," Éomer answered, grabbing a brush and turning back to Firefoot.

Her brother could be a very difficult person to deal with, that she knew of experience. His temper could flare up in a matter of seconds, and she was now treading on very dangerous ground. She walked round the stall, but she did not go in. Firefoot usually tolerated her with Éomer nearby, but it was no telling what that horse would do if she in any way upset his master. Firefoot's temper was much alike Éomer's, and even the stable boys steered clear of him. He only tolerated being handled by Éomer, and Éowyn knew that her brother stood up early in the morning only to save the stable boys form being beaten to death by Firefoot's hooves.

She looked directly into Éomer's face, although he was not looking at her, keeping himself busy by brushing Firefoot. "I saw you watching Princess Lothíriel tonight." Éowyn, just as her brother, was outspoken and didn't waste her breath on needless words.

Éomer stiffened for a split second, but didn't look at her. "So what if I did?"

"Brother, she is to be another man's wife. She is not for other men to desire, not even a king."

It took all of Éomer's self-control to keep from hitting her. Beside him Firefoot stiffened, sensing his master's anger. "Careful with your words, Éowyn, for you know naught of what you speak!"

Éowyn did not back down. "I saw you, Éomer. I saw your desire when you looked at her. She is no wench you can take to your bed and forget the next morning. She is a Princess and she is to wed a nobleman of Gondor. You cannot have her."

"I know bloody well she is no wench! And I couldn't care less who she weds. Let her be a peasant's wife if she so wishes, it is of no consequence to me."

"Then why are you so angry?" Éowyn asked.

"I am not angry!" Éomer roared. Firefoot took an aggressive step forward, and Éowyn raised a brow at her brother. "I am not angry, Éowyn," Éomer growled.

"Why am I not convinced?"

"Éowyn, back off. This does not concern you," Éomer said warningly.

Éowyn stared at her brother, searching his face for any evidence that she was mistaken. But she knew she was not. She knew with absolute certainty that she was right. "You love her."

"What?" Éomer was totally unprepared for that statement, and could only stare at his sister in shock.

"You do, don't you?" Éomer didn't answer, but then again he didn't need to. Éowyn could see in his face all she needed to see. "Éomer, she cannot be yours."

"I know that!" Éomer almost shouted, stepping out of Firefoot's stall, towering over his sister, barely containing his temper. "I don't care, Éowyn!"

"Do not lie to me, Éomer, son of Éomund!" Éowyn shot back. "You love her, and you care, but you must let her go. She is promised to Lord Talon."

"He doesn't deserve her!" Éomer shouted. "He is naught but a manipulative fool! He weds her because her father is a prince."

"Perhaps so, but still she is his to wed," Éowyn said. "You must let her go."

"You know nothing of this, Éowyn. Nothing!" he turned away, not looking at her.

"Then tell me," she pleaded, taking his arm.

He shook his head. "No," he said in a whisper.

"Éomer, it's tearing you apart. Now I know you would never allow yourself to fall for a woman you have just met, yet you love her as much as I love Faramir. Do not deny this; I've seen it in your eyes. Tell me."

Éomer shook his head, leaning against the wall. "I can't." His voice cracked and he sank to the floor.

"Éomer, I only want to help," she said, kneeling next to him. Her heart was breaking of seeing him like this. Her strong and proud brother, her hero, was looking like a lost child, sagged against the wall.

"I shouldn't have let myself fall for her. It was foolish. We were at war, and I should never have let her ride with us." And he told her everything. He told her of when he discovered her to be a woman, of how she rode with them to Helm's Deep and Gondor, how she had captured his heart, although still he could not understand how that had happened, and he told her how he'd lost her.

"I was a fool, Éowyn. I was a fool to fall for her."

Éowyn shook her head, wiping tears off her face. "You are a fool if you let her go," she declared. "Fight for her, Éomer. Steal her away, kill Talon, go to war with Gondor, I don't care. Just don't let her go."

Éomer shook his head. "It's too late for that."

"No, it's not," his sister protested. "You deserve to be happy, Éomer. No one deserves it more than you. And it is obvious that Lothíriel do not love Talon. It was probably a match arranged by her father. Talk to her and talk to Imrahil. Perhaps you can convince him to free her of that snake of a man."

"I don't know."

"Do not give up," Éowyn said. "I won't let you."

* * *

Lothíriel was up before dawn the next morning, unable to return to sleep after awakening from a nightmare. She'd dreamt about her wedding day. The sky was dark and soon it would start raining; yet the wedding was on the beach. She was wearing a black dress, and a veil was hiding her face. She walked down the path of stone, clutching Elphir's arm hard. Talon was waiting for her. Suddenly it started raining. It was like a sign from the Valar. A bad sign. 

Lothíriel shuddered, drawing her cloak closer around her as she thought about what had happened next in her dream. She had stood next to Talon, her face blank, all feelings hidden deep underneath an exterior of ice. He looked at her, smiling, knowing that he now had her in his full control. And suddenly Éomer had been there, sword drawn and charging at Talon. The man had simply smirked, and a few seconds later Éomer was lying dead on the ground, an arrow standing out of his chest, his open motionless eyes staring right at her. She'd screamed and bolted upright in bed. After that sleep had eluded her, and if her dreams were to be like this one she'd rather not sleep at all.

She walked down the corridor and into the Golden Hall, still thinking about the nightmare, when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her into the shadows. Before she could even scream, a large hand covered her mouth.

"I want to talk to you."

She recognized the voice immediately, and when the iron grip on her arm lessened and the hand disappeared from her mouth, she spun around and stared into the face of the person she'd last expected to see.

"Éomer!" she gasped in surprise.

"Hush!" he looked around, to ensure that no one else was nearby. His dark eyes shifted to her again. "Come with me." And she of course followed.

He led her to a backdoor leading to the overgrown garden behind Meduseld. Queen Morwen of Lossarnach, wife of King Thengel, had made it, but to Éomer's knowledge the garden had not been tended since the death of Queen Elfhild, Théoden's wife. So now it looked as wild and dark as the Fangorn forest.

"Why have you taken me here?" Lothíriel asked, coming to a halt.

Éomer turned and looked at her, staring at her strangely. "Bema, I have been such a fool," he said quietly.

He touched her face with his fingertips, but she brushed his hand away. "Do not play games with me, Éomer," Lothíriel said.

"I'm not playing with you, Lothíriel."

She snorted and shook her head in disbelief. "Why should I believe that?" she asked. "You've pushed me away for months, unwilling to hear me speak a word of apology and now all suddenly has changed?"

"I don't play with the feelings of other people," Éomer insisted, a bit harshly.

"But I do?"

He snorted. "Well, you've certainly messed around with my mind more times than I can count."

"That is not fair. I never meant to hurt you, nor did I keep the truth from you with the intent to hurt you."

"I know," Éomer said quietly. "Nor was it ever my intention to hurt you."

"Yet we both hurt each other, didn't we?" Lothíriel asked. "But where do we go from here? How can we continue with Talon always in the shadows?"

"We'll just have to get rid of him."

"How?" Lothíriel asked in a disbelieving manner, crossing her arms.

"I'll think about that later," Éomer said.

"Why continue down a path of futile hopes? My father will not dishonour Talon or his father by breaking the marriage contract. And how can you trust me after what I've done? How can I trust that your love for me is true when you have already claimed many times that you don't love me any longer?"

Before Lothíriel realized what was happening she was pressed against Éomer's hard chest, her lips captured in a slow kiss. His lips briefly passing hers, teasing her, making her beg for more yet she said not a word. She didn't have to. He knew what she wanted, what she needed. He deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding her lips to part and she gladly complied. His hands found their way to her head, her back, moving from her shoulders to her hips, his touch like fire to her skin. She moaned, pressing herself against him, her hand moving to his neck, the other down to his chest. When his lips released hers she gasped, filling her lungs with air as if it was something that had long been denied her.

Éomer still held her close to him, fearing she would disappear if he let her go. With one hand he brushed away her hair, exposing her slender neck, kissing her shoulder, nipping lightly on her earlobe, gently kissing her neck and placing a brief kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Éomer," she sighed.

"I love you," Éomer said, smiling. "I don't care if your name is Farabor, Liriel or Lothíriel, and I don't care if you're promised to a farmer or a nobleman, for no man but me will have you in the end."

"I hope so," Lothíriel said, smiling back at him. Éomer captured her lips again and didn't let her go until they were both gasping for air. A while later they sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. Lothíriel sat leaning against his strong chest, and he was lovingly stroking her hair.

"Éomer."

"Mm?" he continued to stroke her hair.

"I love you too."

* * *

Trondheim: Godt å se at det er andre fra Norge på denne siden. Jeg kommer fra Nord-Norge, ikke så veldig langt fra Tromsø. Håper du følger med og liker dette kapittelet også;)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everbody!


	22. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **Own nothing except the characters I've made up.

**Author's note: **Don't get confused now, but I decided that this was moving too slowly and I needed to pace things up a bit. Everything in _italics _is either flashbacks or thoughts. I had decided to have this finished by Saturday, but I had a little unforeseen appointment with some friends of mine and a considerable amount of alcohol, so it resulted in a slight delay. And usually I will reply to the reviews I receive, but this time I don't remember if I did it or didn't (I probably forgot), but thanks to all who reviewed. Now on with the story…

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 20**

How she wished to cast away all her troubles and sorrows, to sail away never to return, safe in the arms of the man she loved, away from all royal duties, away from all grief and tragedy. To a place far away, with green plains and view of the sea, to the east large snow-clad mountains where the sun would climb up each morning, to the west a large green forest where the sun would set each night, casting long shadows of the large trees. They would have a cow, a few chickens and perhaps a couple of sheep and of course many horses. They would swim in the sea and build sandcastles on the beach, ride across the plains, and hunt in the forest and live happily ever after, just the two of them and in time a couple of children, all with the same golden hair as their father.

It was a nice dream, but it was only a dream. He had his duties to his country and his people, as she had her duties as a daughter and princess of a royal house.

She forced back the tears that threatened to come. Soon she was expected in the Great Hall, for her father held a feast; a feast to celebrate his daughter's engagement. She would not cry. She refused to cry. She would not show weakness. She would go down the stairs, down the hall and enter the Great Hall with her head held high. She would lock all her emotions inside and hide it beneath an exterior of ice, cold and unbreakable.

A marriage contract, when first signed, could not be broken. This was the law of the country she was born in, and she had no choice but to follow it lest she bring disgrace upon her father's name.

* * *

_Three months earlier, in Edoras._

_For the weeks following the funeral of Théoden King and the crowning of Éomer, Lothíriel was happy. She forgot all about the promise her father had made to a man she despised, and the paper with the proud signature of Prince Imrahil hidden in the desk in his study was forgotten. _

_For a time she was happy. Her days spent in an overgrown garden behind Meduseld, in the strong arms of the man she loved more than anything in this world. As soon as he could get away from his royal duties, Éomer would be in the garden with her, and at night when the shadows hid their identity they would take their horses and ride across the plains. _

_They carefully avoided raising suspicion, and with the aid of Éowyn they succeeded to keep people in the dark. But the joy and happiness in Lothíriel was too apparent for her father not to notice. _

_One night after she had retired and waited for the rest of Meduseld to fall to rest so she could meet Éomer in the stables for their nightly excursion, she was seated in a chair by the window, reading a book. A knock on the door made her look up and when her father entered she knew her dream would soon come to an end. A deep frown made him look ten years older than he was, and his eyes were sad, as if knowing what he was about to say would ruin his daughter's life forever._

_Imrahil took a chair from the other side of the room and sat down next to her. "Lothíriel, my child, I have seen the sadness in your heart ever since we met again in Minas Tirith after the Battle of Pelennor, and I see now that this sadness has been washed away. Not by Lord Talon, for only love could wash away that sadness, and I know you feel nothing but contempt for him."_

"_Ada," she shook her head, willing him to stop._

"_Please, Lothíriel, listen to what I have to say and answer these questions asked by a concerned father," Imrahil said and took one of her hands in both of his. "Once again your heart is light and free, your spirit has returned and you are happy, happier than I have seen you since before your mother passed away. No, let me finish," he said when once again she started protesting. "You are like your mother, you know. Your love shines in your eyes, just as it did in hers when I first met her and by some mysterious ways she fell in love with me. When you see the man you love your eyes lights up and your whole demeanour changes. You smile and your eyes follow him around the room. The man you see is not Lord Talon."_

_Lothíriel looked away, unable to meet her father's eyes. Imrahil stroke a hand over her cheek, brushing away a tear, then gently forced her face up. His heart nearly broke in two when he saw the unshed tears in his daughter's eyes._

"_You see the King of Rohan, a man both noble and worthy of you, one I even consider a close friend and would be proud to have as a son." Lothíriel could no longer hold the tears at bay and Imrahil felt his eyes fill at the heartache of his daughter. She knew as well as he did what he was about to say next._

"_I wish by the Valar that I had not promised you to Talon. I wish I had waited until I found a man you loved and who loved you in return. But alas that is not to be. A marriage contract cannot be broken. It is a binding agreement made by both parties, as you well know. My dear Liriel, I am so sorry I did not wait. I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me."_

"_There is… there is nothing to be done?" Lothíriel asked in a pained whisper, knowing well that nothing could be done to break the contract._

"_I am sorry," her father repeated, eyes downcast, shaking his head sadly. "When we return to Dol Amroth I think it best for you to wed Talon as soon as possible. Think not of the future you and Éomer could have had together. Think not of things that will not come to pass. Marry Talon, try to love him and do not dwell on the past."_

_Lothíriel took a deep shuddering breath and composed herself, meeting her father's eyes. "I will honour the contract. I will do my duty and all which is required of me, both as a daughter and a wife, but ask me not to love. I can never love him, nor will I try."

* * *

_

Each step she took carried her closer and closer to doom. Her feet were heavy, bur she forced herself to move on. She would meet her end with dignity worthy of a princess.

She entered the Great Hall like a gentle breeze; silently and unexpected, yet all became quickly aware of her presence. As the engagement celebration was held in mid-November many folks from distant lands were prevented from attending, which explained why there was no representation from Rohan. But the King and Queen were both attending, as was her cousin Faramir. The previous night Talon's father, Lord Mardun, had arrived with his younger son, Arlos.

With unfaltering steps she approached her father, who sat upon his high seat, awaiting her arrival. The King and Queen sat next to him on thrones higher than Prince Imrahil's, both watching her with penetrative eyes, but Lothíriel kept her eyes on her father. When she arrived she curtseyed just like a well-brought up princess should.

"My daughter has arrived I see," Imrahil said as he rose from his seat and kissed her brow.

"Be iest lîn," she replied just as she saw Talon approach from the corner of her eye. He bowed to the King and Queen before his attention was turned to her.

"You look lovely, my dear," he said and took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. For the occasion she wore a simple dress of deep green with golden embroidery; the colours of Rohan, a last call for a forbidden love. A pin of a silver swan held her hair together high on the back of her head, and waves of dark hair fell loosely from it.

On the outside she looked like a perfect princess; on the inside all she felt was emptiness.

* * *

_Two dark figures rode swiftly across the plains, barely noticeable in the pale moonlight. If anyone saw them none would have guessed it was the King of Rohan and the Princess of Dol Amroth on one of their nightly rides. They rode hard until they reached the edge of a forest. They dismounted and walked the horses over to a stream floating by. As the horses drank the two of them sat down on the forest floor, under a large tree._

_For a time neither of them said much. Lothíriel leaned against Éomer's chest, listening to the even beating of his heart, drawing strength from him, and Éomer simply held her, sensing her uneasiness and her need for comfort._

"_My father came to see me tonight," Lothíriel said, breaking the silence._

_Éomer frowned, knowing he would not like whatever she was about to say. "What did he want?"_

"_He knows about us, Éomer. I do not know how, but he knows." She straightened up and looked at him. "Gondorian marriage contracts can not be broken, and daughters never have a say in the matter. All is decided for them. It is never a matter of love anyhow. Among royalty and nobility marriage is always a matter of politics and power."_

"_I know this," Éomer interrupted her. "What did your father want?"_

"_He wanted to remind me of my duty," she replied, a sob caught in her throat. "A king most assuredly would be a better suited match for a princess, but the contract is signed and if I broke the terms agreed upon I would dishonour my father's name and bring shame upon him and my family."_

_Éomer remained silent, but the look on his face told her he was thinking hard on how to solve this problem. She knew it could not be solved, as he surely did, but he was fighting against admitting it. _

"_Éomer, please…" she whispered. "Say something." She needed his assurance that he understood. That he didn't blame her._

"_I cannot lose you," he said, running his thumb across her cheek. "You are meant to be here, with me. You should have been spared this fate."_

"_But I'm not. I cannot fool myself any more, nor you, than I already have. I have no choice. I cannot disgrace my father's name any more than I can be reason for war between your country and mine. This fate is mine, and mine alone."_

"_I told you I would find a way to get rid of Talon," Éomer said. _

"_And what are you going to do? Kill him?" Lothíriel looked at him, eyes on fire. "Éomer, be reasonable. Killing a nobleman of Gondor would force King Elessar to choose between going to war with Rohan or ordering you to surrender yourself and have you imprisoned or executed, most likely the latter as Lord Mardun will probably wish his son's murderer killed."_

_She sighed, taking a deep breath to calm herself and rested her head against his chest. "Rohan would be without a king, meaning your sister would have to break off her engagement with my cousin and become queen, you would be dead and I would eventually be wed off to a nobleman of Gondor."_

_Éomer sighed as well, closing his eyes. "You are right, of course. I just can't stand the thought of you married to that man."_

"_In time the pain will fade," she said._

"_I will find a way to break the contract," he vowed, ignoring her last comment._

_She hung her head. She hoped he could. She hoped by the Valar that he would find a way to free her from her prison. But realistically she knew there was no hope. _

"_Éomer, promise me one thing." He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "Promise me you will marry and have children of your own."_

"_No," he shook his head. "I cannot…"  
_

"_Promise me," she demanded, turning around in his lap and sitting on her knees between his feet, taking his head in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "Promise me," she repeated in a softer voice._

_Éomer took her hands and kissed her palms. "Do not believe for one minute that I will promise you anything like that."

* * *

_

Steel met steel as Éothain was driven backwards, crashing against a table. Just as his opponent lunged he jumped to the left and out of reach. As his opponent came at him again he was ready, his sword up in a defensive position, but as it was he barely avoided a blow to his head.

"Ready to surrender?" Éomer asked, looking at his friend with a raised brow.

Éothain raised his sword above his head in a mock salute. "Surrender to you? Not a chance I'm afraid."

Éomer's only answer was a similar salute as Éothain's before he lunged yet again and forced Éothain out the door. Then Éothain gained the upper hand and forced Éomer's sword down and pushed him against the wall. Before the soldier could rejoice in his victory, Éomer manoeuvred out of his grasp and at the same time Éothain's sword was forced into the wall.

As Éothain wrestled to get his sword out of the woodwork, Éomer watched him in amusement, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen doorway.

"I will make you regret this," Éothain cursed.

"I look forward to it," Éomer answered, but quickly had to duck as Éothain had gotten his sword loose and lunged at him.

The duel continued into the kitchen. The servants stepped quickly around them as they watched their king fight his lieutenant. One time Éomer pushed Éothain against a shelf filled with bottles of wine and ale, and everything came clashing down onto them, and one other time Éothain pushed Éomer into a table, almost causing them both to lose their balance, but they quickly regained it. It did not take long before Éomer pursued Éothain out of the kitchen and into the Golden Hall.

Éothain made one unsuccessful attempt to disarm Éomer, which led to him nearly being disarmed instead. Éothain jumped away, deciding he better get out of reach before he found himself at the wrong end of his opponent's sword. He ran in the opposite direction, but Éomer rushed after him and after a few moments Éothain's sword was lying at his feet, out of reach. Éothain himself was pressed up against a pillar with a sword at his throat.

"Well, do you surrender now?" Éomer asked with a slight tilt of his head.

Éothain looked at him and then down at the sword. "Well," he said sheepishly, "perhaps I should, just to avoid adding a new scar to my almost flawless skin, of course."

"Of course," Éomer nodded, withdrawing his sword from Éothain's throat. Hid brow was bathed in perspiration; his hair was hanging loosely around his shoulders, wet and with a slight red colour after the wine. His brown tunic was also red with occasional stains of wine, and a few places it was cut open as evidence of where Éothain's sword had cut through his defences.

Éothain himself did not look much better, except he was wearing a rather foolish grin on his face.

"Have you finished your foolish games now?" Éowyn asked; her arms crossed as she walked towards them, trying to appear stern while in truth she had taken too much delight in watching her brother enjoy himself again, even if it was foolish. After Lothíriel's departure he had buried himself in work, trying to forget everything that had happened. She didn't know everything, but she knew enough. As Faramir had explained to her; Gondorian marriage agreements, once written, were impossible to withdraw. After having received her answer, Faramir had demanded to know why she wanted to know and now he was sworn to secrecy.

"I will never again offer to take his mind off things," Éothain declared. "How would I know he wanted to duel?"

"You should have realized I would not suggest reading a book," Éomer replied, using a cloth his sister had provided to dry his face.

"He's right," Éowyn said. She looked at them both, wrinkling her nose. "Really, you smell like a tavern. I'll have the servants prepare baths for you both. And I suggest apologizing to the cook would be in order."

"That's not necessary. I'll just change clothes, however I believe this sword needs sharpening," Éomer said as he ran his thumb over the edge of his sword.

"Yes, and you'll probably start sharpening your sword first and forget all about changing," Éowyn said. "Now, I don't want to hear any more protests. Take that bath or forget about showing up for dinner. Trust me, you need it. As if we need our king totally humiliated in his own home," she muttered as she walked away to fetch the servants. Éomer and Éothain just stared after her.

"There's no hope for poor Faramir," Éomer stated as he walked down the hall, heading towards his chambers.

* * *

An hour later Éomer was quite relaxed in his bathtub, conceding that his sister was right and that he did need this. He had also needed that small workout with Éothain, although perhaps they should have taken their little duel out of Meduseld. They should at least have kept out of the kitchen. 

His eyes closed and he leaned back against the tub's edge. It was so long ago since he'd felt even the slightest contentment. He was not content now, far from it, but he was more relaxed now than he had been in months.

Lothíriel was on his mind constantly. He had made a vow to find a way to break off her engagement with Lord Talon, and so he would, but things had progressed little and it seemed more and more hopeless.

His duties as king occupied most of his time, and as each day passed he found himself growing more and more melancholy. Even as king he could do nothing to prevent the marriage. He could do nothing to alter laws of a country not his own, and he simply could not demand Aragorn alter them either.

But he would not give up. That was the one thing he refused to do. Éomer of Rohan was not a man to give up easily, and this was not an exception.

* * *

"_Éomer, could I have a word with you?" Imrahil asked as he entered the King's study and closed the door behind him._

_Éomer nodded as he continued reading through the new trade agreement Aragorn's advisors had suggested between Rohan and Gondor. Aragorn had already read it, but wanted Éomer to read it as well before signing anything._

_With a inaudible sigh he put away the agreement and looked at Imrahil, who took a seat at the other side of the desk. "I expected you to come sooner," Éomer commented._

"_Then you know why I am here," Imrahil stated._

"_Prince Imrahil, it was never my intent to dishonour your daughter or you," Éomer started, but Imrahil cut him off._

"_Love is a powerful thing and who it affects is impossible to predict," Imrahil said. "However I fear love is never fair."  
_

"_This I know," Éomer interrupted. "Lothíriel has informed me of your laws. Now I suspect you will tell me the same. There is no possibility to prevent the marriage and I will do best to forget about her."_

"_Spare both yourself and Lothíriel further heartache," Imrahil said. _

"_Go on with our lives and pretend that nothing has happened?"_

"_Try to forget."_

"_I can no easier forget her than I can the Battle of Pelennor."_

"_I wish there was something I could do," Imrahil said._

"_Release her from the betrothal," Éomer answered._

"_Even as Prince of Dol Amroth I am not above the law and neither is the King of Rohan, whether it is your own laws or that of neighbouring countries," Imrahil countered._

"_I will not accept this," Éomer announced. _

"_You must," Imrahil responded, "just as I must accept my failure as a father."

* * *

_

"My lady, would you honour me with a dance?"

Lothíriel looked at Talon's offered hand and saw several couples having already moved onto the dance floor. "It has been a long day and I feel rather tired," she said, turning her attention to her father. "With your permission, Ada, I think I will retire."

Although it was still early and Imrahil knowing his daughter's true reason for declining Lord Talon's offer, he nodded, giving her his permission to leave. "Erchirion, will you escort your sister to her chambers?"

Erchirion nodded, "of course, Ada."

Talon could hardly conceal his frown of displeasure as he watched Prince Erchirion escorting Lothíriel out of the hall. With a slight nod in the direction of Imrahil and King Elessar and Queen Arwen, he left to have a word with his father.

"I hope the Princess does not feel ill," Elessar commented, taking a drink of his wine.

"She will feel better in the morn when she is well rested," Imrahil answered, although unable to hide his concern from the King.

"The Princess does not appear joyous about her upcoming marriage," Arwen said, looking at her husband.

"It is never easy to leave one life behind in order to begin another," Imrahil said, then offered a slight smile. "Do not be concerned, my lady. My daughter will be quite all right given time."

King Elessar did not look convinced and neither did his queen, but no more was said of the matter for the time being.

* * *

"Are you certain you will be all right, Lothíriel?" Erchirion asked as they reached the door to her chambers. 

"Yes, go back to the feast and enjoy yourself. I shall be fine," Lothíriel reassured him.

"Very well then, sister," Erchirion said and kissed her cheek. "Sleep well."

Once inside her chamber she rested her head against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. For the rest of the evening she did not have to worry about Lord Talon or the betrothal.

But her thoughts did not leave her alone and sleep eluded her. Instead she was reminded of the last time she had spent with Éomer.

* * *

_Quietly she opened the door, slipped inside and carefully closed it behind her. Her feet were frozen after walking on the cold stone floor, but she hardly cared as her heart started beating faster when she saw him. He was asleep it seemed, his chest bare while the rest of him from the waist down was hidden beneath the covers. _

_She walked over to the bed, taking a deep breath. She had made the decision, but was still a bit nervous about it. But then again who wouldn't be?_

_He seemed more relaxed when he slept, although she knew better than to think he was not on guard, even when he slept. He was a soldier, after all, and if she surprised him while he slept it would probably be the last thing she ever did. _

_Cautiosly she sat on the bed, running her fingers across his chest, hoping the movement would wake him. It did. Éomer sat up in his bed, staring at her, unsure if he was actually seeing her._

_She smiled. She climbed on top of him and pushed him back down. She bent down and kissed his chest, making a trail of kisses up his throat and finally captured his lips with her own. _

_The kiss was hot and savoring, but slowly his senses reeturned and he pulled away. "What are you doing?" he asked breathlessly._

"_I want you, Éomer," she answered. "I need you." She recaptured his lips, but he pushed her back._

"_Lothíriel, we cannot do this," he protested. _

"_If we are to be parted I want this night. I need something to hang on to. Please, Éomer."_

_He had never wanted anything so badly in his life as he wanted her this moment, but common sense told him not to. "If we do this there is no turning back."_

_"There never was," she replied. "All we have done has never offered an alternative route back."_

"_Your father will kill me."_

_She smiled, knowing he would not protest much more. "Only if he finds out." And then she dropped the robe she wore onto the floor and melted into his arms.

* * *

_

**Translations: **

Be iest lîn – According to your wish


	23. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **The same as usual, I'm afraid. Still don't own anything other than characters created by me.

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 21**

"Watching to the night, the hope is gone  
Carrying so much burden in my heart  
Watching to the night with tired eyes  
Waiting for nothing all my life"

"Battle Against Time" by Wintersun

* * *

Talon was furious. How dare she? She was a princess of Gondor, not some common tavern wench! He deserved better than a wife who'd shared beds with half the population of Middle-earth! He deserved an obedient wife. He would find a way to make her obedient.

Talon looked at his brother. "How did you come by this information?"

"Not all servants at his court are loyal to the Rohirric king," Arlos said with a smirk, taking a bite of his apple. "Delicious, you should try one."

Talon took an apple, looked at it and threw it into the wall. "I will make her pay for this!"

"As you should, dear brother, as you should," Arlos said. "But do nothing rash. She is no good to us dead."

"Believe me, brother, Lothíriel will not die. I will have her as my queen. All I have to do is to ensure her spirit remain broken."

"If you believe her spirit to be broken you need to have your eyes examined, Talon," Arlos looked at his brother, pouring himself another drink. "Every night she stands on her balcony, facing north. She still hopes to escape this fate, to live with her barbarian king. No, Talon, what you have to do is to ensure that she remains here."

Talon scowled. He hated to admit it, but his brother was right. He had to make sure that his future wife remained in Dol Amroth. He would find a way.

"When will we be ready?" Arlos asked, changing the subject.

"By the end of the week Father will have the answer from the Haradrim commander. In another two we will be ready," Talon answered.

Arlos smirked. "And Gondor will be ours."

They heard someone let out a gasp and the brothers looked at each other. Talon swiftly walked towards the door to the adjoining room. In a few moments the eavesdropper was dragged by Talon into the room and thrown roughly onto the floor.

"Lady Valinea, what an honour it is for you to join us," Arlos greeted pleasantly.

Val glared at him. "It'll never work!" she spat. She then proceeded to kick Talon in a very sensitive place and the man groaned, doubling over. She swiftly got to her feet and fled towards the door, but Arlos suddenly stood before her, with the tip of his sword pointed at her chest.

"A very bad idea, don't you agree?" he asked, keeping the pleasant tone and manner that had fooled them all since the first time he visited his brother's future wife and her family.

Meanwhile Talon had recovered and walked stiffly over to his brother and their prisoner. Without a word he backhanded her. It surprised her and she let out a small scream, falling onto the floor.

"Well, now that that is dealt with," Arlos broke the silence. "Brother, we have our solution. Lady Valinea will ensure the continuing presence of Princess Lothíriel."

Talon smirked. "Indeed she will, indeed she will."

He looked at Val, and she could not help but feel terrified. She quickly buried this feeling, however, and glared defiantly at her captors. "You will never succeed! Prince Imrahil will have you imprisoned and the Council will execute you!"

"Such faith in your Prince and the Council," Arlos commented. "You do realize that your faith is misplaced, do you not?"

"Neither Prince Imrahil or your father or the Council will find out anything before it is too late," Talon added menacingly.

"You will get what you deserve," Val replied.

"Oh, we most definitely will," Arlos agreed.

"Traitors," Val said, getting to her feet. "You're nothing but traitors."

Talon smirked. "Berand!" he called and a man entered, one Val recognized as captain of Talon's guard, assigned only for his protection. It did not take long for her to realise that the man was so much more than Talon's bodyguard.

"My lord," Berand bowed.

"Take Lady Valinea out of the palace and keep her hidden. Keep her alive, for now. The Lady will also write a letter to her father, explaining her absence."

"Then perhaps such an explanation could be that she left, searching for evidence against you, my lord," Berand suggested.

Arlos seemed pleased. "What an excellent idea!" he exclaimed. "Please make certain this is done, Berand."

"Of course, my lord," Berand bowed.

As Berand lead Valinea out of the room, Arlos sat down in a comfortable chair, sighing contentedly.

"Now all we have to do is wait," he said.

Talon snorted. "One thing seems to elude me, dear brother," he said.

"And what is that?" Arlos asked, pouring himself yet another glass of brandy.

"If you knew about my betrothed's unfaithfulness several months ago, why did you not tell me?" Talon glared at his younger sibling.

"Simple, my dearest brother," Arlos answered sweetly. "I never do anything unless it proves useful to our cause."

"And how is it useful now and not when we were still in Rohan?" Talon asked, his anger rising with each word.

"Because if I told you then you would confront your future bride, and during the winter she would probably find a way to escape. The wedding is now only three weeks away and you can confront her if you wish, and ensure her continuing presence much easier," Arlos explained calmly. "For you know as well as I do, brother, that if you had known prior to this day you would have confronted her, possibly having the means to ensure that she remain at the time, however much could happen over such a long period and we had greater chance of failure."

"All this time you chose to keep this from me," Talon growled.

Arlos, however, was not concerned. "Of course I did. You would let your temper guide your actions and it would lead to utter ruin for all of us. Father agreed with my reasoning." _And let us not remember that the look on your face when I told you, dear brother, was priceless,_ Arlos thought with a smirk.

"I will kill Imrahil just because he insisted to postpone the wedding till after winter," Talon muttered.

"No, you will kill him because he is the ruler of Dol Amroth," Arlos corrected. "Besides, the timing is perfect. With the outcome of the War as it was and the return of the King, we needed the delay to get our plan back on schedule. And it was you who wanted it all to happen the night of your wedding."

"No, that was you," Talon said. "Something about dramatic effects or whatever your argument was."

"Oh, yes," Arlos smirked. "How could I forget? When the Princess is finally your wife, we kill her family and all the royal guests, including the King, and become the new rulers of Gondor."

Talon didn't answer, but he was, like his brother, quite confident that they would succeed. One thing bothered him, though, one thing he needed to deal with. He turned to his brother. "No one takes what is mine and walks away unharmed," he said menacingly. "I want the barbarian king's head on a silver platter!"

"That can be arranged."

* * *

The sound of the door closing and approaching footsteps awakened her. It was still dark outside and the moon was hidden behind a cloud, making it hard to see inside her dark chambers.

As was her habit since returning to Dol Amroth after the war, she slept with a dagger within easy reach. Ignoring the desire to look at the intruder as he or she approached, she reached for the blade. When the intruder shook her shoulder to awaken her she had her dagger at his throat within seconds.

"Amrothos!" she gasped in surprise, staring at her brother. She immediately removed the blade.

Amrothos was staring at her, eyes widened in surprise and face white as a sheet. "Well," he said after a moment, "whatever it was I expected when I snuck into my sister's chambers, it certainly was not _that_!"

"Díhena nín," Lothíriel said. "I did not expect company," she added dryly.

Amrothos grinned and took a seat at the edge of her bed. "Well, my apologies, tithen muinthel, to frighten you was not my intention."

"What was your intention then?" Lothíriel asked, ignoring the remark about him frightening her.

Amrothos was suddenly serious, as if just now remembering what he was doing there. "Have you seen Valinea?"

Lothíriel's brow furrowed. "Not since yesterday morning," she answered. "Why? Has something happened?"

"I am not sure," her brother answered, obviously worried. "When I spoke to her she said she had something to do, but it would only take a few hours. I have not seen her since."

"Why are you worried? It is not unusual for Val to forget time when she finds something that catches her interest," the Princess said.

"I know that," Amrothos replied, scowling. "It is just that…"

"What?" Lothíriel looked at her brother questionably. He looked… scared, she decided. Something more must have happened to frighten Amrothos. It was nothing unusual for Val to disappear from time to time. If she found a good book she would find a quiet spot and read it until she finished it. Once they hadn't seen her for days. She had been found on the stable roof, reading a book while two others were lying by her feet. Amrothos knew how she was, why was he so concerned then?

"I'm not sure, but something about her behaviour troubles me."

Lothíriel's eyebrow rose. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot put my finger on it," Amrothos replied with a sigh, frustrated. "It was something she said, the way she said it or something about her voice. I cannot say for certain." After a moment he shook his head and rose to his feet. "Forget I said anything. I am sure it is nothing to worry about." He turned to leave.

"Amrothos, wait!" Lothíriel got out of bed, grabbed her robe from a nearby chair and put it over her nightgown. She took a hold of his arm just as he reached the door. "You were alarmed enough to come to my chambers in the middle of the night. Tell me, brother, do you think Val is in danger?"

Amrothos took a deep breath and released it. He looked into the concerned eyes of his sister and nodded. "Aye, I think she is."

* * *

Having searched all the places they could think of within the palace, the siblings went into the gardens, hoping they would find their missing friend before long.

Lothíriel still wore the nightgown, but she had changed from the robe to a dark blue cloak. She had taken the dagger with her, knowing better than to meet any danger unprepared. She had been a rider with the Rohirrim, after all.

Thinking of her time with the Rohirrim made her think of Éomer. She hadn't allowed herself to think of him very much during the winter. Of course he would come to her each night in her dreams, making her remember what could have been, what he had promised would be. Realistically she knew she must wed Talon and forget Éomer. In her dreams it was different. In her dreams she wedded Éomer. Talon never existed.

She missed him. She longed to feel his arms around her, to feel safe again. She hadn't felt safe for a long time.

"I will take that part and you can take this part," Amrothos suggested, startling her. She recovered quickly and nodded her consent. The siblings parted, promising to meet thirty minutes later.

After searching for about twenty minutes, Lothíriel started to doubt they would find Val. She became more certain that her brother was right; that Val was somehow in danger. And she knew who was responsible.

She was on her way back to meet Amrothos when she heard a twig brake. Her heart started beating quicker. She looked around, but could not see anyone in the dark. She held the dagger in a tight grip, preparing herself for an attack.

Nothing happened.

She stood there for a few moments, wondering if it was only her mind playing tricks on her. But no, she was certain she had heard someone step on that twig. Someone was there, watching her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She walked in the direction of the sound she'd heard. She found the broken twig underneath a tree. Someone grabbed her arm and she spun around, bringing the dagger to the person's throat.

She looked into the cold eyes of Talon.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

Talon looked calmly at her, once he had gotten over his initial shock at having a blade pressed against his throat. "Be careful with that, dear princess, someone might get hurt."

She glared at him. "Someone might," she agreed.

"Lothíriel, my dear, there is no need for hostility. I have found it in my heart to forgive you."

For a moment she was speechless. Nothing he could have said would have surprised her more than those words. "For what?" she finally asked.

"Why, Princess, do you think me a complete fool?" He smiled, running his hand across her left cheek and brushed some of her hair behind her ear. Only the slightly added pressure against his throat made him withdraw his hand. "I know all about you…" he paused dramatically, smirking as he continued, "and your lover."

The dagger fell numbly from her hand as she stared at him, too shocked to form a coherent response.

"Oh, yes, I know everything," Talon continued. "The shared kisses, nightly rides… what would your father think if he found out? His daughter losing her innocence before her marriage and not even to the man she is to wed! The House of Imrahil would be dishonoured! And let us not forget…"

"Shut up!" Lothíriel snapped and slapped him forcefully. Tears threatened to fall, but she stubbornly refused to let them. She was angry and afraid, fearing not for herself but for her father and Éomer.

Talon smirked as his words had the desired effect. He had to admit, though, that he had not expected her to actually hit him. It was quite painful. She was obviously stronger than she looked.

"Your lover will pay for this," he said in a low, menacing voice. "I demand restitution. He robbed me of what is rightfully mine."

"You wouldn't dare go against him. He is a king. And by taking this matter to my father, you will be free of the contract. No man wants a wife who has already been with someone else." She hoped this was true. She hoped he no longer wanted her for his wife. She had been bound by the contract and had been in no position to demand it be declared invalid. He, however, could do so. Just because he was a man he had that right. But something told her this was not what he wanted. He had something else planned.

"You will not be so fortunate," he informer her. He traced her jaw line with his thumb, running it across her lips. He saw her fear in her eyes. He could feel it with every fibre of his being and it excited him. He moved his hand to her neck, running his fingers through her hair and pressed his lips against hers while his other hand found its way to her breasts, removing the cloak and kneading them through the thin material of her nightgown.

Disgusted, she pushed him away. He did not seem surprised or upset by that. He seemed quite satisfied with himself.

Rage flowed through her. She hit him as hard as she could; knocking him off his feet. In a moment she had retrieved the fallen dagger, and was ready to run it through him. Talon stared up at her, eyes wide with fear. He knew she would kill him. He had given her more than enough reasons.

Lothíriel took a deep breath. Could she kill a defenceless person? Could she make herself do it? Could she push the blade into him or slit his throat in cold blood? Even after everything he had done to her, could she make herself kill him? She moved the dagger to his throat.

Could she do it?

Just a bit more pressure to the blade and this nightmare would be over. It would finally be over.

Talon was so frightened for his own life that he failed to see the internal struggle the Princess was having. His goal now was to once again gain control. "If you kill me, she'll die!" he cried out desperately.

Lothíriel looked at him. "What are you talking about?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Valinea," Talon said, panting heavily. "If anything happens to me, she'll die."

Lothíriel glared at him. "You lie," she said evenly, adding slightly more pressure to the blade so that drops of blood trickled forth.

Talon closed his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. He opened them again and looked at her. "I assure you, I don't lie. If anything happens to me, she dies. If you do anything I disapprove of, she dies. If you disobey me, she dies."

Lothíriel swallowed harshly. She had lost. If she killed him, Val would die. She could not be responsible for that. She had to find a way to save her.

"Do you understand?" Talon asked, seeing he had her under his control. She nodded numbly. "Good. Remove the dagger." The blade was removed, although a bit hesitatingly.

Talon smirked as he got to his feet. "Remember, if you disobey me, Valinea will die." He received no answer, but it wasn't necessary. He knew she would do as he said. She would not risk the life of her friend. As he turned to walk away he touched his throat and frowned at the blood he then saw on his fingers. That little wench would pay for that, later.

Lothíriel sank to her knees and stared after him as he left.

* * *

When Amrothos returned and his sister failed to appear, he became worried. He knew very well that his sister could take care of herself, but that did not keep him from wondering what was keeping her. For his own peace of mind he walked in the direction Lothíriel had taken earlier, hoping to find her as soon as possible.

Low voices reached him from a dark part of the garden, now rarely used. They were low, faint, almost impossible to make out. Amrothos carefully moved closer, listening carefully. He recognized the voice now speaking. It was Lord Talon.

"_The shared kisses, nightly rides… what would your father think if he found out? His daughter losing her innocence before her marriage and not even to the man she is to wed! The House of Imrahil would be dishonoured! And let us not forget…"_

Amrothos could not believe what he was hearing.

"_Shut up!"_

That was unmistakably Lothíriel's voice. He could not see them, but he could hear them easily enough. He did not dare to move in case of discovery. He had no wish of being caught in a lover's quarrel between Lothíriel and her betrothed.

But as he continued listening he realised more was going on.

"_Your lover will pay for this. I demand restitution. He robbed me of what is rightfully mine."_

"_You wouldn't dare go against him. He is a king."_

Lothíriel had a lover that was king? What king? Surely not Elessar! What in the name of the Valar was going on?

Amrothos moved closer to a tree, just in time to see Talon move towards his sister and kiss her. Amrothos could clearly see his sister did not enjoy it, and was about to intervene when someone gripped his shoulders and pulled him back.

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily, staring at his oldest brother.

"Keep your voice down," Elphir ordered in a barely audible voice. "Come with me."

Amrothos had no choice but to follow, as his brother kept a tight grip on his left arm. Amrothos was a strong man in his own right, but Elphir was both stronger and broader built.

Well out of earshot of their sister and her betrothed, Elphir stopped and looked at his younger brother.

"What did you do that for?" Amrothos asked, crossing his arms, glaring at his older brother.

"I know you want to help her, but I could not allow you to expose yourself," Elphir answered.

"Expose myself? What are you talking about?"

"If you had tried to help her now, you would just make things worse. Talon does not need to know that you don't trust him," Elphir sighed deeply. "Look, you know I've never liked the man. He is the prime example of noble men who never do anything except to expand their own wealth. And I believe he only wish to wed Lothíriel because she is the daughter of Prince Imrahil."

"He's not the only one," Amrothos pointed out. "Many men wish to wed our little sister because of Ada's title."

"Of course, but I believe there is something more to it. Do you remember when Mariel had taken Alphros to the docks and they were attacked, and fortunately Talon was there to save them?" Amrothos nodded and Elphir continued. "I never really believed that. Upon further investigation I found out that the man who attacked them was a man of Talon's own guard."

"What?" Amrothos stared at him. "Talon had his own man to attack Mariel? But why?"

"To gain my trust," Elphir answered. "You must remember, brother, that there are two forms of war. The one fought in open combat and the one fought in the shadows." Of course Amrothos was aware of this, but as the youngest brother he had never been required to bother much with politics. "Ever since he _saved_ Mariel and Alphros, I have had him followed."

Amrothos raised his brow, surprised his brother could be so devious. "What have you found out?"

"A great number of things, actually," Elphir answered. "Among them the fact that Lothíriel is in love with King Éomer."

Amrothos gaped at him. "What?"

Elphir nodded, appearing quite calm about the matter. "And apparently he loves her as well. I shall tell you what you need to know later, but right now…"

"What do you mean by what I need to know?" Amrothos interrupted.

Elphir glared at him, not used to be interrupted, not even by his younger siblings. "Tonight I discovered some disturbing news. Talon has sent a messenger to someone in Rohan, ordering the assassination of Éomer."

Amrothos stared at him in horror. "We cannot allow that to happen, Elphir!"

"Of course not," Elphir agreed. "I have sent one of my own men to intercept the messenger, or if he fails to do that, to reach Edoras in time to save the King's life. But I want you to follow him. Make sure Éomer is not killed. If you ride now, he will only be a half day ahead of you."

"What about Lothíriel?" Amrothos asked.

"I will protect her," Elphir promised.

"Elphir, what do you know of Valinea's disappearance?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid, but I am certain Talon is behind it," Elphir answered grimly. "Nothing will happen to her, I promise you that."

Amrothos nodded. "And I will not let anything happen to Éomer. I would rather have him as our brother-in-law than Talon anyway."

Elphir nodded. "So would I."

* * *

The second day of his journey to Rohan, the messenger discovered that someone was following him. A Swan Knight! Someone knew of his mission to Edoras. He would have to take care of this.

Although his mission was to deliver a message, Lord Talon and Lord Arlos had made sure he knew the punishment he would receive if he did anything resulting in failure. Being followed by a Swan Knight and prevented from delivering his message would indeed be viewed as a failure.

As darkness finally came, the messenger hid his horse and went into hiding himself, patiently waiting for the Swan Knight to approach.

Cerevon, son of Elerhil, had been a Swan Knight for eleven years and had been under the command of Prince Elphir all those years, a man Cerevon respected immensely for his courage and leadership. He was a true leader, and Cerevon was honoured to serve under such a man. One day he would make a very fine ruler of Dol Amroth.

And now, Cerevon, a young man of the age thirty-one, was on his most important mission. He was considered one of the fastest riders by his fellow knights, one with skills enough to accomplish this mission. Lord Elphir himself had told him so.

Perhaps the Prince would have been right, had it not been for the messenger, one of Talon's most ruthless men. As a young man he had been a ranger in Ithilien, and was an experienced scout. His childhood years had been spent with his father's people in Harad. Since he had his mother's lighter colouring, he had no problem passing for a Gondorian when he had returned to Lebinnin with his mother, her home, when he was a youth.

The young knight of Dol Amroth never saw the messenger hiding in the trees. He never saw or heard the arrow that suddenly penetrated his flesh. He moaned, falling out of the saddle, slowly bleeding to death. Before he lost consciousness, his last coherent thought was that he had not been prepared to die.

The messenger smirked, seeing the blood and knowing it would not be long before the man was dead. Why waste a good arrow when the blood loss would do the job for him? Satisfied, the messenger returned to his mount and continued on his way to Rohan.

* * *

**Translations:**

Díhena nín – Forgive me  
Tithen muinthel – Little sister


	24. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N:** I just wanted to update before going home where I have absolutely no internet access. Funny, it's 2006 and people still have the nerve to rent out places with no internet connection!

* * *

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 22**

"I ask you again, where is your brother?" Imrahil asked. "Do not force me to ask a third time," he warned, as if talking to a young boy instead of a grown man.

Lord Alheon burst into Prince Imrahil's study, not bothering to knock, only to find Imrahil standing there with his eldest son, a very unhappy expression upon his face. If Alheon didn't know better, he would have said the Prince almost seemed disappointed with Elphir. But he had urgent matters to discuss with Prince Imrahil, things that could not wait.

"My lord, I must speak with you."

Imrahil looked at his friend and steward. "Can it wait? This will only take a moment."

"But my daughter is missing," Alheon told him urgently.

"By the Valar, what has happened?" Imrahil asked; all thoughts of the son he could not find and the one reluctant to reveal anything momentarily forgotten.

"I am not sure, all I found was this," Alheon said, holding up a letter. Just as Imrahil was about to take it for a closer look, Elphir grabbed it from Alheon's hands.

"Elphir!" the Prince exclaimed in total surprise. His son's behaviour bewildered him more and more for each passing second.

Elphir glanced up at him, frowning as he gave his father the letter. "She has been taken captive."

Imrahil scanned the contents of the letter quickly, looking at his son disbelievingly. "This states that she went looking for evidence to use against Lord Talon, but for which reason I cannot fathom."

"He is not who you think he is," Elphir replied. "He is the one who has taken her."

"Elphir, I have never known you to falsely accuse someone before," Imrahil said, trying to keep his disappointment out of his voice.

"Talon and his brother, Arlos, are planning to take over Dol Amroth. He has threatened Lothíriel, sent a man to Rohan with a message for someone to assassinate Éomer King and kidnapped Lady Valinea."

Imrahil shook his head. "Elphir, this sounds rather farfetched. I cannot believe Lord Talon would do such a thing. He is an honourable man."

"Ada, he is not," Elphir argued.

Imrahil frowned. "Is this some sort of scheme of you and your brothers to save your sister from a marriage she does not desire?"

"Does he have my daughter?" Alheon interrupted, looking at Elphir.

The younger prince nodded. "I overheard him telling Lothíriel that if she does not do as he says he will…" he paused, taking a deep breath. "Then he will kill her. Amrothos heard it also." Alheon closed his eyes, fearing for his daughter's life. Imrahil still looked doubtingly at his son, despite the information he had just received.

"And where is Amrothos?" the Prince asked, returning to the original topic he had been discussing with his son.

"I sent him to Rohan, to make sure Éomer is not killed."

"You sent your own brother?"

"I sent one of the knights as well," Elphir replied.

"Excuse me, but can we not rather find a solution to this problem than argue about it?" Alheon interrupted suddenly.

"I do not believe this," Imrahil said. "Alheon, I do not believe Talon has kidnapped your daughter, even though my son obviously thinks so. You must admit she has quite a history of disappearing without a trace, and it is more likely that she has left Dol Amroth to search for evidence against Lord Talon, as her letter states."

Alheon could do nothing but nod reluctantly. His daughter did have a history of suddenly disappearing, only to return a day or so later with a book she had found rather interesting, and the excuse that she lost track of time. If she believed she could find evidence against Talon that would free Lothíriel of the marriage contract, it was the best reason she had had to disappear. But Alheon still had doubts. Why would she not have discussed it with him? After all, the last year or so, ever since Lord Talon had entered their lives, father and daughter had openly shared their misgivings about the man. Imrahil was blinded by the man's title and possibly the chance to have his daughter married well, and for some reason Imrahil's foresight had failed him when it came to this lord of Lebinnin.

"Elphir, I do not want to hear anymore accusations from you. This man is to be your brother-in-law, and I want you to treat him with the respect he deserves," Imrahil ordered.

Elphir's response was to cross his arms and looking defiantly at his father, a look on his face that had not been there since he was a teenager. It was a look that told his father that his son had no intentions of following his orders.

With no further words, Imrahil left the room. Elphir and Alheon looked at each other, silently agreeing that something had to be done.

* * *

"You know what to do?"

The messenger had reached Edoras in the late afternoon, with no further delays after killing the Swan Knight. He had waited till dark before making contact with the assassin. They met a mile or so outside the city, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

"I know what to do," the assassin answered, almost sounding offended. "I have been waiting for this my whole life."

"To kill Éomer or a member of the royal family?" the messenger asked, not really interested. Whether the assassin killed for money or some personal revenge didn't matter, as long as the job was done.

"To kill Éomer," the assassin answered with barely concealed disgust.

So it was personal then. It didn't matter. "The gold will be delivered to you when the job is done," the messenger said. "I suggest you use it to get away. When the royal guard finds their king dead you want to be a long way from here."

"I need to get back before I am missed," the assassin said, looking at the messenger. "When the job is done I expect my payment."

"I will be here," the messenger promised. At least till he knew the assassin had succeeded.

* * *

Lothíriel sat by the window, staring at the moon and the stars through the glass.

She thought of Éomer, wondering what he was doing, if he was in so much agony as she was. She wondered if Talon would follow through with his implied threat and kill Éomer. That was what she feared most. She thought that somehow she should have been able to prevent this from happening.

She was a prisoner in her own home. Talon had someone following her at all times, preventing her from trying to stop this disaster from taking place. And if she did anything he disapproved of, her best friend would be killed.

It was not long before she would be married to that snake. He would own her; she would be his to do with as he wanted. She would be trapped. An unseen prison, but a prison nonetheless.

It didn't matter anymore. If Éomer was killed she had no more reason to live. She would wither in this body, not caring if she lived or died. This battle was one she could not win.

* * *

It rained heavily as Amrothos reached the gates of Edoras. He was tired and hungry, for not to mention soaked to the bone, but he had to reach Éomer before it was too late. He could only hope he had arrived before the messenger, or at least before the assassin had a chance to complete his mission.

Before he had a chance to call out, someone called to him in Rohirric, words he did not understand, but that he imagined demanded him to identify himself.

"I am Amrothos, Prince of Dol Amroth! I have urgent business with your king!"

"A late hour to arrive, Prince of Dol Amroth, if that is who you truly are," the guard said, now speaking the common tongue.

"I am son of Prince Imrahil, and I must speak with your king. It is a matter of life and death."

Moments later the gates opened and Amrothos rode inside, to be met by a guard mounted on a brown horse.

"I will escort you to the Golden Hall, Prince Amrothos, but I do not know if the king will be there to greet you. As I said is the hour late."

"I will drag the king out of his bed myself, if need be, for as I said this is a matter that cannot wait, and your king's life may depend on it," Amrothos said and continued towards the Golden Hall, not waiting for the guard to follow him or not.

* * *

The assassin approached the large bed silently. The bed stood on the middle of the floor, the head end of the bed was against the wall, a fireplace and a door to an adjourning chamber was at the left wall and a large table stood against the other wall. At the foot end of the bed stood a large chest, and on the wall above the bed was a banner of the white horse upon a green field; the king's banner.

The room was dark, making it nearly impossible to see. But the assassin had no problems moving in the dark. The assassin had trained for this for years. Soon it would be over. Soon Éomer of Rohan would die.

The assassin reached the bed, and with a dagger in hand watched the king as he slept. He would die without even knowing. One fluid motion and his throat would be cut. The blood would splatter all over the chamber. It would all be tainted by red stains, and it could never be washed away. The assassin smiled.

It was time. No more sentiments. The assassin brought the dagger down against Éomer's throat. The dagger missed.

Éomer brought his own dagger up just in time to block the assassin's blade. He stared at the girl, woman, wondering where he had seen her before. It took him only a second to realize that she was one of the kitchen staff.

The assassin stared at him wide-eyed, and he grabbed her arm with his free hand, forcing the dagger out of her grasp.

The door burst open and three men hurried inside, swords drawn.

"Éomer!" Gamling shouted, stopping in his tracks as he saw the woman by the king's bed.

Halmod, the guard following Amrothos from the gates, stepped forth immediately, grabbed the woman by her arm and took her away from the bed.

"She is the assassin?" Amrothos found himself asking in wonder. What reason would she have to kill Éomer?

Éomer did not answer, but looked at Halmod. "Take her to the dungeons. She will be questioned later."

"Aye, my lord," Halmod replied, leading the assassin out of the king's chambers.

Gamling was immediately at his king's side, searching frantically for any visible injuries. "Éomer, are you all right?"

Éomer nodded, halfway on his way out of bed. "I am fine, Gamling." He looked at the prince. "How did you know?"

"Perhaps you should take a moment to rest, my lord," Gamling suggested.

Éomer shot him a glare. "It is not the first time someone has tried to kill me, Gamling."

Gamling nodded, "of course, my lord."

The King paused a moment, then looked at the two men. "Give me a moment to get dressed; then I will meet you in the Hall."

* * *

"My brother, Elphir, discovered that Talon sent a man here with a message for someone to assassinate you. A Swan Knight was sent, but I discovered him on the road, dead. I hurried here as fast as I could," Amrothos explained.

"Why would Lord Talon want the king dead?" Gamling wondered perplexed.

Amrothos looked at Éomer, who sat on the opposite side of the table, deep in thought. He met the Prince's eyes. "Because of your sister," he said quietly. Amrothos gave a nod.

"Princess Lothíriel?" Gamling asked in shock. "What does Prince Imrahil's daughter have to do with anything?"

Éomer wondered briefly if the man had always been so inquisitive while in his uncle's service. Or so daft. To everyone else, seemingly, it was obvious what his feelings were for the princess. Éowyn, Imrahil, Talon and now Amrothos and Elphir knew, but Gamling, who had more dealings with the king and knew him better, with the exception of his sister, seemed to remain oblivious.

Gamling studied the two younger men. Éomer seemed to be lost in thought, a far-away look in his eyes. Amrothos didn't meet anyone's eyes, and for some reason Gamling could not fathom the man was blushing. Then it dawned on him.

"Éomer, what did you do?" he asked, not speaking to his king, but rather the boy who had lived in Edoras since he was only 11. "The princess is betrothed; you have not done anything stupid, have you?"

Amrothos snorted. "Define stupid," he muttered to himself.

"I will not stand here and defend my actions to you, nor will I deny what I have done. But the relationship between the princess and myself is not what we were going to discuss," Éomer said, looking at both of them. "Amrothos, what is going on in Dol Amroth? Has Talon done anything to expose himself?"

"Exposed himself as a dishonourable man? Yes, he has," Amrothos answered "He kidnapped Lady Valinea and threatened Lothíriel."

Éomer said nothing, but his eyes darkened dangerously.

"I don't know how much danger they are in, but I fear for them. I fear for them all," Amrothos said, his eyes burning. "Talon is dangerous. He wants power. And as long as my father is alive he is in the way."

Éomer nodded. "To control Dol Amroth he must rid himself of Imrahil, and all his male heirs."

"Oh no," Amrothos muttered, fear in his eyes. "My brother's son… would Talon be so cruel to kill a child?"

"The child is in his way if he is to gain power of Dol Amroth, isn't he?" Éomer asked.

Nothing more needed to be said. It was clear that Talon would stop at nothing before he had Dol Amroth in his power.

"King Elessar would never allow something like this to occur," Gamling commented thoughtfully. "He would do all in his power to ensure that Dol Amroth is governed by Imrahil or one of his bloodline."

A thought hit Éomer then, and he looked at Amrothos in alarm. "Aragorn will be at the wedding."

Amrothos nodded. "Yes, of course. It's only natural that King Elessar and Queen Arwen will be invited to such an event."

"That is not the point!" Éomer started pacing the floor. "How many nobles do you expect to such an event? The king and queen will be there, and Faramir, your cousin, will also attend, being such a close relative. Who will be left to guard Minas Tirith, except a few soldiers who will be easily overtaken? There will be no one to command the troops, none the soldiers can look to for guidance."

"You expect an attack on the White City?" Gamling asked, wondering briefly if the king had injured his head during the assassination attempt.

"This is not a scheme of Lord Talon to gain power of Dol Amroth," Éomer said. "This is an attack to gain power of all of Gondor. And how better do this than gain control of Minas Tirith?"

"Then not only my family is in grave danger, but the king and queen as well. All of Gondor, in fact!" Amrothos looked at the king. "How will we prevent this? If Talon has gained knowledge of my departure he will most assuredly press for an earlier wedding. If he believes I will succeed or not does not matter, but he must be sure of his own success. And we will never get there in time to prevent this disaster."

"We may," a voice said, and they turned to find the Lady Éowyn approaching. "We can take the Paths of the Dead."

* * *

The dungeons were dark and cold, smelling of wet mud for some reason. Éomer nodded to the guard and went inside, stopping before the cell containing the assassin. The woman stared back coldly, her blue eyes like ice.

"Who are you?" Éomer asked.

"Do you not know?" the woman asked, almost sounding offended.

"Would I ask if I knew?"

"Probably not," she admitted, more to herself than to him.

"Why did you try to kill me?" Éomer wanted to know.

"If you think about it, you already know," the woman answered, struggling to get to her feet and leaned against the bars just in front of him. "You already know," she repeated.

"Would you get paid when you killed me? Was it for some personal grudge? Why did you do it?" Éomer asked, frustrated with her lack of information.

"Both," she admitted. "I would get paid. But mostly I did it out of pleasure. I would get pleasure out of your death, just as you once used me for your own pleasure."

"What are you talking about?" Éomer demanded angrily.

The woman smiled evilly, motioning him forward, and against his better judgement Éomer approached her and stopped just before her, with only the bars of the cell between them.

"What are you talking about?" Éomer repeated impatiently.

She brushed her lips against his, but he quickly pulled back, out of reach. He saw desire in her eyes, mixed with anger and hate. And then he knew. He knew…

"Thora!"

* * *

"No, absolutely not," Éomer protested as he continued to saddle Firefoot.

"It was my idea, and I'm going," Éowyn replied, putting the saddle on her own horse, Windfola, the horse she had ridden in the Battle of Pelennor during the war. Windfola had thrown Merry and herself when the King of the Nazgûl was before them. The horse had run wildly away, but had been discovered when the battle was over and Éowyn had decided to keep the faithful mount.

"Éowyn, no," Éomer said and grabbed her arm. "I need you here. You must lead the Rohirrim in my stead. Our people cannot lose faith when they see the last of the House of Eorl ride into battle again."

"Then you should remain and I lead the éored," Éowyn replied. "You are king and it is your responsibility to secure heirs for this kingdom."

"Without a queen I hardly see how that can happen," Éomer said.

"Éomer, you ride for your queen, but I ride for a reason similar to yours. Have you forgotten that Faramir will most likely be in as much danger as Lothíriel?" she asked.

Éomer looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head, as if giving up, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he looked at his sister. "I had forgotten how stubborn you can be."

"A trait I undoubtedly share with your future queen, if I am not mistaken," Éowyn smiled and continued to prepare Windfola. She looked back at her brother. "Everything will be fine."

The irony of it all did not escape Éomer. He distinctively remembered several years when he had done all in his power to assure his sister that everything would be fine. Now, it seemed, the roles had been reversed.

* * *

Éomer left Gamling in charge of his land and people when he rode once again to the aid of Gondor, though still no Gondorian knew they needed it. With him rode his sister, Éowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, and also Amrothos, Prince of Dol Amroth.

Elfhelm rode with them, as did Éothain, captain of the king's guard, and Galrim and Halmod, and one hundred men of the king's éored.

Swiftly they rode across the plains, and came to Dunharrow in good time. Even if Aragorn and his company had taken the Paths of the Dead during the war, and it now was said to be free of the dead, there was still apprehension among the Rohirrim. The last of their people who had dared take that road was Baldor, son of Brego, whom no man had ever seen since he passed the Door under Dwimorberg.

But Éomer spoke to his men, saying that if some wanted to turn back, this was the time. None did, for none would consider themselves cowards, and so the Rohirrim rode forth and took the Paths of the Dead.

* * *

Éowyn rode up to her brother, knowing the darkness could do nothing to hurt her, but still feeling rather uncomfortable in this cold, dark place.

"Who is she?" she asked at length. "The assassin," she clarified at Éomer's puzzled look.

"No one," Éomer answered curtly.

"Don't give me that, dear brother. I know you spoke to her. I know you know who she is," Éowyn said, refusing to back down.

Éomer sighed, looking at his sister from the corner of his eye. "She was someone from my past."

"A lover?" Éowyn wanted to know, almost whispering.

Éomer glanced at her. "In a way," he admitted quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember a few years ago, when Fenmarch was overrun by orcs?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yes, you had just been made Third Marshal. If I remember correctly your praise was sung all over Rohan after that. You freed the people and killed most of the orcs, almost single-handedly it is said."

Éomer smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it was exaggerated quite a bit. It was a good way to bring the people hope, though. A young Marshal with hardly any experience at leading men manages to free Fenmarch from orcs."

"That is hardly true," Éowyn protested. "As Théodred's lieutenant you often led the men in his absence."

"Yes, of course, but this was the first time I had to do so on my own, with no one to back me up. If I failed I could not turn to Théodred or uncle. I had to manage on my own. And yes, we won. We drove the orcs off and killed many. We freed the people, but not without loss. Thirty civilians lost their lives, sixteen of them children. Many of the riders of Fenmarch died, and I lost twenty riders. It was a hard blow to take. I was young and foolish, believing I would ride into battle and prevail, no matter what was thrown at me."

"I do not believe what I'm hearing," Éowyn declared. "Éomer, you were no more foolish then than you are now. I do not believe you thought you could just ride into battle with no fear of dying. You saw our father being brought home after he was slain. You knew the danger of battle better than anyone. No, I believe you just didn't expect to be put in command of an éored so early and having to handle their deaths alone. You were prepared that the men could die as a fellow rider, but not as their commander. As their commander you had to take all the blame upon yourself, not willing to share that responsibility. That is one of the reasons the people love you so. You take their suffering as your own. You are willing to take the blame yourself, thinking you should have done something to prevent it."

"Perhaps you are right," Éomer muttered.

"I know I am," she replied with a smile. "Now, what happened with this assassin?"

"After the battle of Fenmarch, I returned to Aldburg. I drank that night, wanting to forget. By mere chance I ended up in Haldfrid's house."

Éowyn raised an eyebrow. "Really? And let me guess, there you met quite a few young ladies interested in being of service to the Third Marshal."

Éomer had the dignity to blush at her statement. "I met her there, yes."

"And spent the night?" Éowyn asked.

"Yes, I did. I was not very considerate of her that night, taking only for my own pleasure. I never saw her after that, and I had forgotten about her until today," he told her.

"Why would she want to kill you?" Éowyn wondered.

"For her own pleasure, she said. Some twisted form of revenge, perhaps."

"She was probably in love with you and wanted to have you for herself. She knew she could never have you, so she decided that then no one ever would."

"Are women really that crazy?" Éomer wondered in disbelief.

"Some are," Éowyn answered. "What are you going to do with her?"

"You know what the law says," he answered.

"So you will order her execution?" Éowyn asked.

"The punishment is harsh, but she tried to kill a king. I cannot treat her any differently than I would any other assassin."

* * *

Thora glared at the man before her. "How did you get in?"

"I see your mission was unsuccessful," the messenger answered.

"He is a difficult man to kill," she answered.

The messenger only nodded. He sighed dramatically. "Seems like I must deal with the matter myself." He drew a knife.

She backed away. "I'll call for the guard," she warned.

"I don't think he'll hear you," the messenger said calmly. "He is taking a permanent nap."

"Get away from me," she pressed herself into the corner. He opened the door with keys he had taken from the guard. "No, get out!"

He smirked as he approached her. "No one will hear your pleas." And he cut her throat.

* * *

The night before the wedding of his sister, Prince Elphir lead his wife and son to the stables.

"Ride as fast as you can. Go to Minas Tirith and hide. When the morn comes I want you as far away from here as possible," the prince said.

"Elphir, what aren't you telling me?" Mariel asked. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know, but something is wrong. I don't want you or Alphros anywhere near here," Elphir told her.

"You fear Talon is up to something," his wife guessed. Elphir nodded. "But is Minas Tirith a safe location? The king and queen will be here for your sister's wedding."

Elphir thought for a moment. "Go north to Lamedon. Aunt Ivriniel is too frail to make the journey here for the wedding, but she will be happy for the company. Tell her what is going on, but don't come back before I send for you."

"What if you don't?" Mariel asked fearfully. "What if this you fear happen and you fall?"

"Then remain there till you hear news of my death, then you take Alphros and go north. If King Éomer still lives he will greet you well and give you shelter, or in any case his sister, the Lady Éowyn, will be there. They are kind and honourable people, and whatever happens in Gondor you will be safe there."

Mariel nodded, and Elphir kissed her and gazed upon his sleeping son, resting in her arms.

"He has grown so big," he whispered. "Almost three already."

Mariel smiled. "I know. I love you."

"And I love you," he answered, as he helped her mount. "Do not stop till you're safe. The Valar willing I will send for you before much time has passed."

* * *

**A/N:** sorry for the long wait, but I have been rather busy. Now there's just one or two chapters left, then this story is at an end. Review and we'll see how fast I manage to update next! 


	25. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **same as usual.

**Author's note: **Sorry for the delay. Have no excuse, except the very heavy workload I've been dealing with at school. And I have a feeling I haven't responded to a single review. It's not because I don't enjoy getting them, but I'm just so damned… um… lazy, and now I don't think anyone actually remember what they wrote, so I don't see the point to respond now. I love getting reviews, and I appreciate every single one of them! Even from those threatening to kill me…

Here's the next chapter, and so far it looks like there's just one more after this, and possibly an epilogue.

_Quick summary of last chapter:_

_Éomer was almost killed by an assassin, Thora, a former lover. The messenger sent by Talon from Dol Amroth is still alive and roaming about. Lady Valinea, Lothíriel's friend, is captive by Talon and Arlos. Éomer, Éowyn, Amrothos and an éored has taken the Paths of the Dead to come to Gondor's aid, as Talon's plan is to take Dol Amroth first, and then take Minas Tirith and the rest of Gondor (although our heroes are not quite certain of all this yet). Prince Elphir is now certain of Talon's bad character, and has taken precautions to stop his plans and protect his people. He has sent his wife and son away from Dol Amroth, afraid they would be in grave danger if they stayed. Imrahil is still as stubborn as ever, claiming Talon to be both good and honourable. And now, the wedding draws near, and guests arrive to take part in the event, among them the King, Queen and Steward of Gondor.

* * *

_

**Things Worth Fighting For**

**Chapter 23**

While Elphir sent his wife and son away from Dol Amroth, King Elessar and Queen Arwen were escorted to the chambers they had to their disposal while guests in Imrahil's city. As soon as the servant left, after asking the royal couple if he could be of any more service, Arwen went over to the window. She looked up at the clouded night sky, a concerned expression upon her beautiful face.

Aragorn knew something was amiss and went to her. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"I am worried," she admitted, turning to him. "The Princess Lothíriel, she seems so unhappy. This union is not one of love."

"Marriages between royals and nobles rarely are," Aragorn answered. "Such is the world of Men. It may seem cruel to you, my love, but this is how it is done."

"This I know, but I fear this union will destroy the princess."

"Destroy her?" Aragorn asked.

"She's dying, Estel," Arwen said sorrowfully. "She is dying a little more each day; I can see it in her eyes. She is suffering from a breaking heart."

"This fate does not belong in the world of Men," Aragorn replied, though not disagreeing.

"The blood of the Eldar runs in her veins," Arwen said. "Though many ages have passed since the time of Mithrellas, I fear the part of her that is Edain will not be strong enough to overcome this."

"If what you say is true, then she has already given hear heart to someone else," Aragorn said. "Someone she cannot have."

"The moon is clouded," Arwen said, turning towards the window. "I fear tomorrow's feast may bring more sorrows than joys."

* * *

For the entire ride Amrothos had ridden next to Captain Éothain, and he'd had little chance to speak to Éomer, as his sister had mostly been there with him. Now, however, he rode up to the King. They rode in silence for a time, before Amrothos spoke.

"Do you love my sister?" he asked.

Éomer looked at him, having waited for the question to come ever since they departed Edoras. "Yes," he answered honestly, "I love her."

"And you would protect her from any harm?"

"I would give my life for her, and protect her from any danger to the best of my ability," Éomer replied. "I would do all in my power to keep her from getting hurt."

Amrothos nodded, thoughtfully. "And if the choice stood between her and your people? Whom would you choose?"

Éomer looked at the path before him, his face stoic. "If it came to that, if I had to choose between Lothíriel and the people of the Riddermark, I would be forced to choose my people. As her husband my heart would want me to choose her, but I will always be a king first, Amrothos, and a husband second. Whatever choice lies before me I must think of my people and kingdom. Whatever desires I have for myself must wait. I cannot do otherwise."

"Not even concerning one you love?" the Prince asked.

"Not even then," the King answered. "Were I any other man, free to do whatever I wanted, the answer to your question would not be so hard. But I am King of the Riddermark, son of the House of Eorl, and whatever decisions I make affects someone else. So it has always been. Hopefully I will never be forced to choose between my people and your sister, for I love both and if I failed either I would not be able to meet with my forefathers when the time comes."

Amrothos nodded. "I suspected as much, and I must say, Éomer King, that no other man would I wish for my sister. She is of royal blood; she knows the responsibilities that come with a title. You will find no finer queen for your kingdom if you searched all over Middle-earth."

"I know," Éomer said quietly.

* * *

Arwen walked over to the table in the corner, where a pitcher of water stood. As she was about to pour a glass for herself and one for Aragorn, she noticed a note on the table, addressed to her husband.

"It's a note here for you," she told him.

Aragorn looked at her. "A note?" She handed it to him. Curiously he unfolded the paper.

_King Elessar,_

_Meet me in the stables at midnight. We have something of great importance to discuss._

"Who is it from?" Arwen asked.

"It does not say," Aragorn answered.

Arwen looked at the message. "What can be of such importance that it must be discussed in secret," she wondered.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

* * *

Faramir had just fallen asleep when he was awoken by someone knocking on the door. Cursing, he got out of bed and put on a robe. When he opened the door, Lord Alheon stood there.

"I am sorry for awakening you, my lord, but you must come with me," the man said.

Faramir stared at him. "At this hour? Why?"

"Please, we have little time," Alheon said; looking around to be certain they were not overheard. "You must hurry."

Faramir was close to ordering the man away, but something in his eyes made him change his mind. He nodded. "Give me a moment."

* * *

Erchirion looked at his brother, his arms crossed. "When are you going to tell me what is going on?"

"When the others arrive," Elphir answered.

"What others?" the younger brother wanted to know.

"Patience, Erchirion," Elphir replied.

"Patience," Erchirion repeated, shaking his head.

Elphir looked at him. "You don't want Talon to wed Lothíriel, right?"

"Of course I don't want that!" Erchirion answered, as realization dawned on him. "You're going to do something to stop the wedding?" he guessed.

"Something like that," Elphir admitted.

Then the doors to the stables opened and Faramir and Alheon entered.

"Elphir!" Faramir said in surprise. "Erchirion? What's going on?"

"You will know in a few minutes, cousin," Elphir replied.

Faramir looked at them, confused. "Why are we meeting in the stables?"

"A question I would very much like to know the answer to as well, Prince Elphir," the King commented as he entered.

"My lord," they greeted, bowing.

"I apologize for all this secrecy, my lords, but we have something important to discuss," Elphir started.

"Something that could not wait till morning?" Faramir asked.

"I'm afraid not," Elphir answered. "We are all in Dol Amroth for the same reason; my sister's wedding. We must stop this wedding from taking place."

* * *

"Lothíriel?" Imrahil opened the door to his daughter's room. "Lothíriel, we need to talk."

Since the date of the wedding had been announced, Lothíriel had retreated to her room, refusing to speak with anyone. She took her meals in her room, and sometimes the food was hardly touched.

Imrahil worried, as every father would, but so far he had left her alone. But enough was enough. She would be married the next day and it was time she started behaving as befitting her station.

"Lothíriel?"

He found her standing on the balcony, a cloak draped around her shoulders. As he approached she turned towards him, and Imrahil noticed how pale her skin appeared, how her green eyes seemed to have lost all life, how they now appeared more grey than green. As he took her hand in his he felt a chill go down his spine.

"You are cold," he exclaimed in surprise. It was not very cold outside, and his daughter's pale complexion had him worried. "Come inside," he said, leading her inside, walking over to the fireplace and threw a log on the embers, watching as the flames grew bigger and danced in the fireplace.

He avoided looking in his daughter's face, fearing what he would find there. More and more he started to realise that this whole affair had been a mistake. He should have let his daughter have a say in her own fate. He should have waited for her to find someone to love. He should not have forced his decision upon her.

But this couldn't be undone. The Prince of Dol Amroth was a man of his word, and only under the direst circumstances could a marriage contract be dissolved. He had given Lord Talon his word. The contract was signed. There was nothing that could be done.

It was not because of Lord Talon Imrahil now wished he had waited to have Lothíriel married off. It was because of his daughter. Lord Talon was an honourable man, of this Imrahil was certain, but Lothíriel did not love him. _She will grow to love him_, a part of his mind argued, but Imrahil knew in his heart that she never would. She loved Éomer of Rohan. And she would never forget that love, or open her heart for someone else to take his place.

"Ada, why do you trust Lord Talon?"

Her question took him by surprise, and he looked at her. She was still pale, her eyes still more grey than green, but to him she seemed a little better.

"Why I trust him?" Imrahil repeated her question. "Do you doubt his honour? He is of good family; his family have been of great service to Gondor in the past. His father has been my friend for many years. I know he will make you an excellent husband and a good father for your children."

Lothíriel looked away, unwilling to let her father see the pain in her eyes. There was only one man she wanted to call husband; only one man she would want to call the father of her children.

Imrahil must have seen something in her, for he sighed deeply, caressing her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "I know he is not the one you want. But give the man a chance and you might be pleasantly surprised. I am certain you will be happy together."

Lothíriel did not answer, but turned away from him, watching the moon through her window. "Tomorrow," she said, "I will do as you wish and wed Talon. But that is all I will promise."

Imrahil nodded. "And that is all I ask."

* * *

When Elphir explained his reason for wanting to stop the wedding, all that could be heard in the stables were the sounds of the horses.

Elphir regarded the other men in silence. Alheon had been his accomplice from the start, and he knew he could continue to count on his help. His brother seemed annoyed that he had not been informed earlier, but Elphir knew he could count on Erchirion. He would never allow Lothíriel to wed Talon after what he had just learned. Faramir was pacing back and forth across the floor, trying to decide what to do. But whatever Faramir felt was right, he would do as his king commanded. And that brought Elphir to the fourth man, standing near the door. His face was impossible to read. Elphir had absolutely no idea what the king would decide to do, and he now started questioning the wisdom of sharing his concerns with a man he hardly knew.

King Elessar was a close friend of his father. Maybe Imrahil would even listen to him, if Elessar was the one to reason with him. His father had been unexpectedly stubborn on this subject, but for the plan to succeed, they had to stop the wedding. The King of Gondor had more chance of success than Elphir himself. The question was if he would do it or not. Would he even listen to Elphir's arguments? But Elessar was also a close friend of Éomer King, and had visibly paled when he learned of the messenger who had left for Rohan. Elphir had no way of knowing what Elessar would do, but he could hope and pray.

After a long silence Aragorn looked at the heir of Dol Amroth. "And you have tried to convince your father of this matter?"

Elphir nodded. "He refuses to listen. For some reason he cannot see what kind of man Lord Talon really is."

"But you said yourself that if you hadn't found out that the man who attacked your wife and son was one of Talon's men, you never would have suspected him capable of something like this," Faramir commented. "And Erchirion knew nothing of this until tonight."

"Yes, but I never liked him," Erchirion interjected, crossing his arms.

"I believe Lord Talon is a very good actor," Faramir continued. "And I believe his act is mostly for Uncle Imrahil's benefit. If he manages to convince Imrahil that he is the perfect choice as Lothíriel's husband, who is going to say otherwise? It is his right to arrange her marriage with or without her consent."

"Well, I do believe that law should be changed," Erchirion grumbled. "Yes, it should be changed. Fathers shouldn't be allowed to decide their children's future by signing a piece of paper!"

Aragorn forced himself not to smile at that. He couldn't agree more, but such a radical change would surely only bring trouble. But a subtle change of the law could be a more attainable goal; like getting the bride's consent before the contract could be signed.

Elphir could not help but wonder if Erchirion feared for Lothíriel's future or his own. After all with both himself and Lothíriel married, preferably to a man she loved, their father would only have Amrothos and Erchirion left to get married.

"What I do not understand," Aragorn said suddenly, "is why Talon would wish Éomer dead."

Elphir sighed inwardly. This information was something he had deliberately withheld. It was impossible to predict what reaction this news would receive, and how it would tip the scale.

"Because Éomer and Lothíriel love each other," he answered, having decided it was no point trying to break it to them gently.

Erchirion stared at him disbelievingly. Faramir rubbed his temples, as if this whole affair did nothing more than give him a headache. King Elessar, however, looked amused.

"Oh," Erchirion said after a moment. "Well, he's better than Talon."

"We must stop the wedding," Elphir said. "The messages my men have intercepted between Talon and a group of Haradrim should be evidence enough, without having to add Lady Valinea's disappearance, the message to assassinate King Éomer and the attack on my own wife and son."

"You believe then he is after the throne of Dol Amroth?" Aragorn asked.

"I have no doubts, my lord," Elphir answered.

"If what you say is true, why satisfy himself with Dol Amroth?" Faramir asked. "If we do not stop him now, we can expect an attack on the White City in the nearest future."

"I agree," Aragorn nodded. "Prince Elphir, I suppose you have a plan on how to proceed?"

* * *

Imrahil raised a brow. "Postpone the wedding? Whatever for?"

"Some information has come to my attention that has led me to believe that it will be a mistake if Lord Talon weds your daughter."

The Prince of Dol Amroth frowned, despite his attempts not to. "Have you been talking with my sons?"

Aragorn knew he could not lie, especially to this man, who was a close friend and ally. "I do not believe Lord Talon can be trusted," he said. He had never been a very good liar, but he was good at evading questions. "There has also been some correspondence between Talon and a group of Haradrim, which should be reasonable doubt of this man's loyalties."

"Correspondence?" Imrahil questioned.

"Messages from this palace to a Haradrim commander have been intercepted by some of your son's men."

"Elphir has never mentioned this to me," the Prince muttered.

"The messages were not signed, so it is not condemning evidence. I believe your son feared you would dismiss it," Aragorn explained.

Imrahil looked at him. "The messages were not signed, yet you seem certain Talon sent them."

"It is reasonable to believe, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

* * *

No one was more surprised than Imrahil himself when he ordered that the wedding would not be held until sunset the next evening.

Could he have been so wrong about Talon? Had he condemned his daughter to a life of misery when he agreed to the marriage? Was it now possible to correct this mistake?

He didn't know. He didn't know if there would be evidence of Talon's crimes by tomorrow. He didn't know if Talon was indeed guilty, or if it was simply his overprotective sons who had somehow managed to convince the king that Talon was dangerous. Imrahil believed otherwise, having had time to think about it now. King Elessar was not easily fooled, nor was Elphir one to spread lies. He should have listened to his sons. Why hadn't he listened?

Without evidence, though, sunset the next day was as long as he dared to delay. If Éomer and Amrothos had not arrived by then, or if by some miracle other evidence presented itself, Lothíriel would have to wed Talon.

* * *

"What is going on?" Lothíriel asked as her father entered the room. She was sitting by the window, not having slept all night. Dawn was approaching. Only a few hours and she would be wed to a man she despised.

Imrahil walked silently over to her, taking a seat next to her. "Daughter, gohena nin," he whispered

"Ada?" she looked at him. "Ada, forgive you for what?"

"I have been such a fool. Not taking your feelings into consideration, not listening to you or your brothers. I believe now," he said. "I believe Talon is not to be trusted."

Lothíriel's brow furrowed. "Why this change of heart?"

"I have delayed the wedding till the sun sets, but no longer. If Éomer has not arrived by then, we must find another solution," Imrahil said.

For the first time since returning to Dol Amroth, her eyes lit up and the slightest hint of a smile appeared. "Éomer is coming here?"

Imrahil nodded. "Hopefully, and hopefully your brother is coming with him." He told her everything he knew about the messenger, the assassin, and the messages between Talon and the Haradrim.

"Lothíriel, someday… someday I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," Imrahil said. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to cause you this unhappiness. If I had known… I would have waited. I would have waited for you to tell me whom you wished to marry, and if that man was naught but a simple soldier, I would happily approve. All I want is for you to be safe and protected, but most importantly I want you to be with someone who love you, not for your title, but for the wonderful person you are."

"Ada…" Lothíriel started, but he cut her off.

"Get some sleep," he told her, standing. "And pray that your father's foolish actions will not lead to our doom."

* * *

On the top of a ridge, four riders looked down upon the marching army, their spears glistening in the rising sun as they moved across the plains below.

"They march towards Dol Amroth," Amrothos noted, sighing heavily as he watched the army. They were too far away to be overtaken, and too many to be defeated by the Rohirrim alone.

"From where do they hail?" Éothain asked.

"Lebinnin I believe," Amrothos replied, trying to see if he could recognize any markings on their livery or armours, but they were too far away. "I do not know, but I believe so, if I am to guess from their direction, and where they have possibly come from. They must be Talon's men, in any case."

"Is Dol Amroth far?" Éowyn asked, trying to find some sign on the horizon that they were nearing the sea.

"Too far," Amrothos muttered before looking at her. "I believe we will not reach the seashore before nightfall, and that force," he motioned below them to the marching army, "will be there an hour or so earlier."

Éomer looked at him sharply. "They will not," he said. "Not with our horses. Let's waste no more time." And with that he guided Firefoot down the ridge, where his men were waiting. The three others followed close behind.

* * *

"This is enough!" Talon declared, angered beyond reason. "Postpone the wedding. Postpone the wedding!" he shouted, throwing a silver cup in the general direction where Prince Imrahil had just been. It hit the wall, giving a ringing sound as it fell onto the floor, spilling wine all over the fine marble.

Arlos winced slightly at the sound, before eating a grape. He shrugged his shoulders. "We still have the girl."

"She is of no consequence!" Talon retorted. "It is the Princess we need, not some wailing Steward's daughter!"

"She is hardly wailing," Arlos found it necessary to point out. "But you are right; we do need the Princess. So the way I see it, it is simple. Wait a few hours until we see our men nearing Dol Amroth, then take the Princess and demand her to marry you. The Princess can hardly refuse when we are the masters over the life of her dear friend."

Talon looked at his brother, considering the matter. At last he nodded. "Yes, we must do it the way you suggest. And if she still refuses, we will threaten to kill her dear nephew."

Arlos hesitated a second before opening his mouth again. "Yes, well, about that… Princess Mariel and her son have fled. They are no longer in the City. Apparently, Lord Elphir must have suspected something wrong…"

He barely had time to duck before a bottle of wine was thrown in his direction.

* * *

The day passed slowly for Lothíriel. Often she would sit on her balcony, in vain watching the north for some sign of Éomer. None came, and she started to worry that he would not come. That he could not come… because the assassin had succeeded.

Ignoring those thoughts, she watched as the sun as it started lowering on the sky, marking that another day had passed. As she watched the sun, maids entered her chamber, preparing the wedding clothes and waiting for the Princess to return inside so they could begin the preparations.

When Lothíriel did not come, one of the maids approached the balcony, almost reluctant to do so. That the Princess would rather marry a lowly farmer than Lord Talon was a fact well known in the palace.

"My lady," the maid spoke in a low, almost frightened, tone. "Will you not enter? I fear we must begin soon, or we will be late."

Lothíriel's knuckles were white as she held onto the balcony rail. She said nothing, but stared towards the north, listening for the sound of approaching horses or horns being blown. No sound did she hear, and no rider did she see. And the sun would soon be down, with it taking the last rays of light from Lothíriel's life as well.

She heard nothing except the silence from the north, and so she was unaware that someone other than the maid had entered the balcony. A strong arm gripped her around the waste, clutching her painfully. His hated voice entered her head, his disgusting breath against her ear sending shivers down her spine.

"If you wish your friend to live," Talon muttered threateningly, "you enter your chambers and prepare." He let his hand travel upwards, to her breasts, kneading them as his mouth travelled to her neck, making contact with the silky skin.

Lothíriel shuddered and, using the advantage of her lesser figure, quickly withdrew from him.

Talon just smirked as he watched her. "By the end of this night, you will be mine. All of you."

Lothíriel stared after him in disgust as he left. With a desperate sigh, she looked one last time northward, before resigning herself to the fact that hope had left her, and entered her chambers.

The maids, who had been ordered out when Talon entered, and had quickly returned when he had left, were waiting. The preparations began, and the wedding was now only an hour or so away.

* * *

**Translations:  
**gohena nin – forgive me 


End file.
